


Winter Come, Winter Crush

by abbymaie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbymaie/pseuds/abbymaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya had only met this man all but one week ago, and now they were to spend the rest of their lives together. She recalled Sansa’s words to her and then Jon’s words echoed loud and clear this time.</p>
<p> <br/><em>You could be happy.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Could Be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> This has been burning on my mind for a really long time and I finally got off my behind and voila!  
> The idea is basically an arranged marriage that may or may not grow into something more.  
> Hope you guys like it :)
> 
> For [ Eden](http://thestagandthewolf.tumblr.com/).

The bells from the Sept of Baelor rang loudly and soundly through the city of King's Landing. The ringing echoed well into the walls of the Red Keep, reminding its residents once more of the wedding that was to take place later that day. The merry sound of the birds and bells made the young Stark girl cringe internally.  _In the matter of hours, I'll be married to a stranger….and there's nothing I can do about it_. Arya sighed as she sat perched on an arched window, overlooking Blackwater Bay. She sat in silence before her blissful ignorance was interrupted by handmaidens.

"Good morning, my lady. Lady Stark requests you be prepped in her chambers."

Arya nodded, fastening her robe and following her mother's handmaidens. The walk was short and to her merit, quiet. Her solace didn't last long as her mother enveloped her into a bone crushing hug.

"Oh my darling girl! You are to finally become a woman today. I'm so proud of you." Catelyn sobbed.

"Let's get this over with please." Arya snapped.

"Arya, it is your wedding day. "

"A wedding I did not ask for."

"Arya, please."

"You wanted me to me marry and here I am. I would appreciate it if we didn't waste any more time on unnecessary things."

Catelyn exhaled and closed her eyes. "Very well, then. Let us begin."

Arya wasn't sure how long she there but it felt like a lifetime had come and go. But to be fair, all she felt was being tugged around the room getting bathed, dressed, and getting color put on her face. She was standing in the middle of the room in her shift when the maids finally came with the wedding gown. It was made of Myrish lace and light, billowy silver fabric. It had short sleeves that clung to her shoulders and had a long train; the skirt was flowy as if to give the illusion of fuller hips.

"Ready my lady?" her maid hesitantly asked.

She nodded and turned to grab onto her bed post. Her maid fastened her corset even tighter and fixed her shift. Her maid helped her into her wedding gown, adjusting her ties and her pins. Her mind was blank as were her expressions. Catelyn noticed and decided to step in.

"Leave us."

"Of course, my lady."

Arya was seated in front of her vanity, waiting for her hair to be braided. Catelyn walked over, hesitant to how her daughter would receive her. Arya didn't even bat an eyelash, she simply stared straight ahead. Cat had begun to fix her hair into a Southern style, when she felt her daughter pull back.

"No."

"It's custom to fix the hair of the bride to that of the wedding region—"

"I don't care. I'm not from the South."

"It is tradition Arya. I had to wear my hair in a Southern braid when I married your father."

"Lucky for you,  _you_  married in Riverrun,  _your_  home. I don't think that was too much of a stretch of tradition." Arya retorted.

Cat balked at her daughter's tone. "Arya, enough. You will wear a Southern braid and that this final. This isn't up for discussion."

"This marriage wasn't up for discussion either and yet, here we are. Please mother, save your words of wisdom for yourself."

"Arya Stark! You do not talk to me in that tone." Catelyn spun Arya to face her.

Arya glared at Catelyn, scoffing. "What? Are you going to strike me again? Is that it mother?"

Catelyn released her and had the good grace to look ashamed.

"You decided this without consulting me; you don't get to decide anything for me anymore. So you can either help me fix my hair or you can leave."

Catelyn felt the tears pricking the corner of her eyes and fought to not let them spill. "Is this punishment for Winterfell."

"It's not a punishment if it's for the best." Arya replied.

Cat felt the sting of words as they came back to stab her in the gut. Arya had used her own words against her and the pain was all too real.

"Very well."

The room fell into silence, mother and daughter stiffly finishing up the final details of the wedding prep. All that was left was the maiden's cloak. Cat looked at Arya's reflection in the mirror. Although she looked absolutely breathtaking, Arya's eyes held nothing but misery and sadness. And not for the first time did Catelyn Stark feel her heart break for her youngest daughter.  _Forgive me, my love._

The tears fell silently as her daughter sat in a chair waiting to be led to the ceremony. A knock on the door had her hastily wiping her eyes and bringing a false smile to her smile.

"Enter."

Ned Stark peered in from the other side, maiden cloak in hand. Arya was fastening a wolf pendent around her neck before facing the direction of the door.

"It's time."

Arya felt her body tense. _I am not a Lady, I am a wolf. Wolves don't cower._

Rising from her seat, Arya stood tall and unafraid. She tugged on the pendent once more, making sure that it was securely tied on. She couldn't have Nymeria by her side today, so the pendent would be her strength today.

"Come sweet girl, it's time."

They exited the chamber and walked towards the Godswood.

* * *

Ned stood next to his daughter outside of the Godswood. His wife had left to go greet his eldest daughter and her husband, who arrived the night before. Before him was the small Godswood filled with only family and a few witnesses, the King and Queen, the royal family, and a Septon. Beside him on the other hand was his daughter who was routed firmly to the ground refusing to move forward. Ned sighed.

"Come love, the ceremony is to begin soon. We mustn't be late."

Arya turned to face her father and for the first time since she'd arrived, she spoke to him.

"Father, please don't make me do this."

It wasn't a command or a demand, it was a plea.

"Arya, you know I cannot."

"Father, please…. _please_." Her voice was cracked and her eyes looked near tears.

He embraced her in his arms and kissed her forehead. "Sweet girl, I'd give you the stars and the moon if you'd asked. But there is nothing I can do, not this time love."

Arya knew it was futile but she couldn't help herself. She wiped her eyes and composed her expression once more. When her father reached for her arm to lead her down the aisle, she stiffened and her eyes went cold. Ned closed his eyes in defeat.  _Forgive me sweet girl, but one day you will understand. This is for the best._

Ned draped the maiden's cloak over Arya and quietly led her down the aisle to the front of the Heart Tree. He kissed her forehead once more and handed her over to her husband to be. The boy nodded and tentatively reached for her hand. Arya reluctantly took it and they faced each other.

The Septon spoke a few words before beginning the ceremony.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

The groom blinked in uncertainty before steeling himself and moving forward. He removed her maiden's cloak and replaced it with his own. In turn Arya draped hers around him. He timidly put out his hand and she placed hers on top of his. The Septon began to wrap their hands with twine as he spoke.

"In the sight of the Seven and the Old Gods, I hereby seal these two souls together, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words."

The Septon finished binding their hands together and they faced each other. Bright blue bore into cloudy grey. He was handsome but that was as much as Arya would allow herself to think about him. They exhaled and began.

"Father. Warrior. Smith. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

"Father. Warrior. Smith. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

"You may kiss your bride."

Arya was taut but her newly anointed husband gently wrapped an arm around her waist and cupped her face with the other. He pressed a soft kiss on her lips and pulled back just as quickly. Husband and wife look at each other in surprise, no words needed to be said. They both felt the spark and quickly looked away.

The crowd erupted into cheers and Arya felt the pressure build behind her eyes. She was a married woman now, Arya Baratheon. Gone was Arya _Stark_. The realization almost knocked her off her feet as she stared blankly ahead to her family. Her father wore a solemn expression and her mother was weeping. The rest of her siblings looked joyous but the face she longed to see was miles and miles from there, on the Wall.

"Let us celebrate the union of these two houses, TO THE FEAST!" the King bellowed in joy.

"To the feast!" the crowd echoed.

* * *

The feast was a loud and raucous affair. The entertainment consisted of singers and bards, jugglers, and even a small tourney was being held in the courtyard. Lively music played and the noble men and women danced without a care in the world. And even with all the noise drowning out her thoughts, Arya could still hear the harsh whispers of her new marriage.

"Looks like House Baratheon and House Stark are finally joined, even if it was by marriage to a _bastard_."

"It's not every day that two noble houses are united by a bastard. I for one say that the youngest Stark girl is no maiden. Or how else do you explain her lord father accepting this union?"

Another snorted. "Or maybe the bastard couldn't keep his cock in his breeches and sampled his new wife  _before_  the wedding."

"After all you know what they say about bastards, borne out of lust and dishonor. Like father, like son."

"Too right. They say that the girl is the spitting image of her aunt."

"Lyanna Stark? The King's first betrothed?"

"The one and the same. And the bastard looks exactly like Robert did almost twenty years ago."

"What a shame, such a handsome man. Gone to waste." One of the gossipers sighed.

"Same could be said about the girl. Long face and the look of a Stark, nothing to do with the breathtaking beauty of her elder sister. Now that's a shame. Nothing more than a plain faced girl with haunting eyes."

"At least, she's not becoming a princess. The Seven know how that might have gone."

"The girl is wild and unkempt, might have run the seven kingdoms right into the ground."

"The thought is disturbing enough to warrant more wine."

The whispers went on all throughout the feast and Arya could feel the eyes of several people follow her everywhere she went. She was furious and wanted nothing more than to stab those women and scream that nothing they said was true. That they knew nothing about her and that they were wrong. But instead, she danced with father and said nothing.

She was handed off to her brother, Robb, who then proceeded to hand her off to some lord and so on. Prince Tommen had been the only person she had treated with a small grin. She was rewarded with an even bigger one from him and let him lead her on the dance floor. She was a bit taller than him but still managed to dance with the young prince. Soon she stumbled across Renly Baratheon. She would've mistaken him for her new husband if it hadn't been for the beaming smile he was wearing. He took her hand and kissed the knuckles ever so gently.

"My, what a beauty you are, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord."

They conversed as he spun her around on the floor. "I can see why my brother fell for Lyanna Stark now."

"I never knew her but she was said to be very beautiful and free spirited."

He gave her another dashing smile as he spun her around. "And I hear the same about you my dear. Let us hope that you have a better ending than she did."

Arya could do naught but nod. And before she knew it, she was face to face with the King. His eyes went wide with recognition, reaching for her like a starving man would reach for a loaf of bread. She froze at his touch and he pulled her closer to him, the smell of alcohol invading her senses. His hands went to her waist but kept trying to roam further down, her hands uselessly at her sides.

"You look just like her." The King slurred. "So beautiful and wild, like my Lyanna."

Arya could say nothing but hope that something would tear him from her. She squirmed trying to break free from his hold but he only brought her closer to him.

"Lyanna don't leave me." He spoke as he tried to keep Arya from leaving. "Stay with me. I won't let that bastard take you from me again."

She could only watch in horror as he tried to kiss her and grope her, not caring in the least of the audience around them. She closed her eyes waiting for it to happen when she heard a deep voice break her thoughts.

"Lord Stark has been looking for you, your grace."

King Robert waved him off and returned to grabbing at Arya.

The voice spoke again, but more forceful and commanding. "Lord Stark says that it is urgent. News from across the Narrow Sea."

That tore King Robert from her and she blinked at her savior. It happened so quickly that she barely registered when the King had let go of her.

"Very well, now where the fuck is Lord Stark?" the king sounded irritated.

"On the dais,  _your grace_." Her savior spat out acidly.

They both watched as the King staggered his way to Lord Stark. Arya looked up to her husband and saw as something flickered through his eyes. Anger? Resentment? Before she could guess what his eyes held, he sighed and looked to her.

"Your lady mother wished to see you, my lady."

Arya was taken aback. That wasn't exactly what she had expected to hear. He didn't ask for a thank you instead he relay a message and turned to leave.

She grabbed his arm to stop him. It was his turn to look surprised. Blue eyes wide and curiously calm. It somehow gave her a sense of calm as well.

"We have yet to share a dance. It's customary for the newlyweds to share a dance before the…"

She didn't finish as he led her to the dance floor. She didn't have much grace but neither did he and that somehow made it better. All eyes were on them as they danced around the empty floor. He put one hand on her waist and the other placed on her hand. Her hand rested on his shoulder, her other wrapped with his and her face at his chest. He kept his eyes trained forward and his face emotionless. She curiously wondered if she looked the same as him; emotionless and stone faced. As they danced, she heard the whispers start again and this time, he winced at them.

The music slowly ended and he pulled away from her, kissing her hand, and walking out into one of the corridors. She stood in the middle of the dance floor confused and alone.

The rest of the feast was a daze after that dance. On more than one occasion, she refused to share her mother's company, instead spending time with her elder sister and her husband, Willas Tyrell. Sansa looked absolutely stunning in her dark green gown and round belly. She was close to five moons and glowing. They talked about her life in Highgarden and how excited she was to be a new mother.

"I hope that if it's a boy he has Willas's brown hair and our mother's eyes. And if it's a girl, he wants her to have my red hair and father's eyes. Oh Arya! Can you imagine it?" Sansa spoke elatedly.

"Of course."

Sansa smiled at her and squeezed her hands, sensing her discomfort. "It's going to be alright. You were always the brave one."

Arya looked at her sister's stomach. "And now you're the brave one Sansa."

"But you will always my brave and brash little sister." Sansa kissed her sister's forehead and stood to accept a dance from a knight. "And who knows, maybe…you could be happy."

Arya watched as Sansa gleefully whirled around the dance floor with the tall knight. She recognized the man dancing with her sister as Sandor Clegane, or the Hound as he was better known as, prince Joffrey's shield. When the dance ended, her sister kissed the Hound's burnt cheek and returned to her husband. It didn't escape her notice how both shared a wistful look at each other before parting.

She sat there bored looking for an escape when her view was blocked. She turned her head only to see the person who had blocked her path, Joffrey. She could already feel the bile rising in her throat at the sight of his wormy face.

"Your grace."

"My lady."

"Is there something you needed?"

"Not at all but I do feel a bit slighted."

Her eyebrow arched in confusion. "And why's that?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "My lady has danced with almost everyone but me. My brother and father were each given a dance, yet I wasn't."

Arya said nothing but stared at him.

"I don't like being slighted my lady. So how about a dance?"

She wanted to dance with him as much as she wanted to befriend the queen. Suddenly a thought came to her. "Forgive me, your grace. I was merely dancing with every lord I came across, nothing personal. And as much as I would love to spare you a dance, my lady mother wished to see me before the bedding."

Joffrey seemed to be angered by her refusal. "Very well, my lady. I look forward to the bedding ceremony then."

She was barely able to stomach the look on his face and walked to where her mother was sitting. Arya had only just reached the table when she heard the King shout:

"TIME FOR THE BEDDING!"

Arya freezes and feels her mouth go slack. She can feel her skin crawling as the King and the other men eye her like a slice of cake, waiting to rip the garment off her body. Her eyes search the room helplessly for grey eyes but remembers where those eyes are.  _With the King, on the Wall, lost._ Lost in her thoughts, she almost screams when she feels warm hands bring her back into reality. The hands spin her and she comes face to face with deep blue eyes.

The young Stark girl breathes a sigh a relief and embraces the man.

"Robb."

"Come on. Before these bastards touch you."

Robb strips her of her dress and gathers her in his arms. They can hear the bellows of disapproval and annoyance as they walk to her wedding chambers.

"Thank you."

"Anytime little wolf."

She curls into his chest and grips his doublet. He slows his pace, understanding what she wants. They walk for a bit longer until Robb stops and sets Arya on her feet. She's shaking and positively terrified. Robb stepped forward and kissed the crown of her head.

"It's going to be okay, little wolf. I know it doesn't seem like it but it will. I'm sorry about this, but remember that no matter what, you will always be a Stark of Winterfell."

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded.

"Winter is coming." They spoke in unison.

With that Robb left her standing in the hallway. Arya exhaled and reached for the door before her.

"Those are not your wedding chambers."

Arya jumped back in surprise, nearly screaming when she recognized the voice.

"Jon!"

Jon smiled and caught her as she jumped on him.

"Gods I've missed you!"

This time she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"I missed you too, stupid!" She pulled back to see him. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"I thought so too but, Robb convinced me to travel with him. Thought I should see you off before I settle on the Wall."

Her eyebrow rose. "Robb arrived two days ago…why didn't you come to see me sooner?"

Jon had a pained look on his face, pain mixed with sadness. And suddenly, she knew the answer. He set her on her feet.

"Mother."

"Yes. Lady Stark thought it imprudent of me to be present at your wedding."

They strode forward as they spoke. "She didn't want a bastard at my wedding? Did she forget what the groom was?"

"Arya."

"Huh… _my wedding_." She scoffed. "As if I had any choice in the matter."

"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to. Because when it comes down to duty, we don't have a choice."

The young Stark girl didn't respond. She couldn't, his words rang true.  _I wouldn't have to do this if I'd been born a bastard._

Arya often believed she was a bastard when she was a child. She had looked nothing like her mother or her other siblings with her long face, stormy grey eyes, and messy, knotted brown hair. The only people whom she resembled were her father and Jon.

"I wish I was a bastard." She muttered under her breath.

Jon smiled sadly. "No, don't."

"At least if I was one, I wouldn't have to worry about being married off to some stranger."

Her half-brother mussed her hair and slung his arm over her shoulder.

"We'd be free to travel the world and ride with outlaws. Just like Wenda the white fawn."

"Just like Wenda." Arya echoed.

They stopped and stared at each other. Mirror images of one another. Dark brown hair and eyes the color of shining steel.

He patted her cheek. "I wish we didn't have to say goodbye this way."

She felt the tears fall once more, silently and she nodded. "Me neither. I'm sorry about what I said to you that day in the Godswood. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't little sister. It's all alright."

"I'm sorry. I love you, Jon." She paused, willing the tears to stop. "You're my favorite brother and my best friend….my only friend."

"I'm going to miss you most of all little one. I love you and don't stop fighting."

She chuckled. "Stick'em with the pointy end."

"Yes."

Brother and sister embraced again before walking on to their new lives.

"Goodbye, Jon Snow." Arya whispered, her voice cracking.

His voice cracked as well. "Goodbye, Arya  _Stark_."

Arya turned to the door and opened it. Just as she stepped inside, she felt Jon tug her back to him for a hug. He kissed her temple and murmured into her hair. He gave her a rueful smile and left.

Arya Stark stood in the middle of her empty wedding chambers remembering her half-brother's last words to her. The door creaking open brought her back to her painful reality. She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze and head from the ground, to find searing blue irises boring into her steely grey.

It seemed as if all of time had stopped for a single moment,  _this_  moment, and start again. Arya had only met this man all but one week ago, and now they were to spend the rest of their lives together. She recalled Sansa's words to her and then Jon's words echoed loud and clear this time.

_You could be happy._


	2. Ready to Start

“M’lady.”

“My lord.”

The dark haired man, no _husband_ , stood all but a foot away from her in nothing but his smallclothes. She still wore her shift as Robb only stripped her of her dress and corset. Tentatively, he reached for her hand and pulled back just as quickly when she flinched. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Flustered and a bit frustrated with himself, he turned away from her opting to sit on the bed with his back to her. Arya watched as he reached for a tunic in the dresser by the bed and pulled it on. He shifted around on the bed until he was lying down on his side.

“Goodnight, m’lady.”

Arya remained standing in confusion as her new husband settled into their bed to sleep.

_He’s not going to touch me._ The realization of the situation made her angry for some reason. _Fuck this bullshit! I was forced into this marriage and it’s expected of us to fuck._ He _doesn’t get to decide what happens here._

Finding her courage, Arya made her decision without a second thought. She removed her shift and climbed onto the bed. Her husband felt the bed dip as he turned to face her. She took the opportunity to crawl onto him and push him down into the featherbed. She straddled his lap in nothing but her smallclothes, her breasts uncovered and unclothed, half naked and yet his eyes never left her face.

He was startled and unsure of what was going on. Before he had the chance to ask, Arya beat him to it.

“Listen very carefully, _my lord_. You don’t get to decide what happens here for me.” His mouth opened and shut, keeping quiet and letting her continue. “You may think that what you’re doing is the decent thing to do or that it’s what’s best for me, but it’s not. All you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable. So let’s just get this over with.”

“You’re right. As you wish, m’lady.”

Something inside her snapped at the last reply. “Do not call me m’lady!”

He blinked in surprise and weariness. “Forgive me but what does m’lady wish, I call her instead?”

“Arya.” She whispered. “Call me, Arya.”

“As you command… _Arya_.”

Arya saw as his eyes flickered with conflicting emotions, nervousness and insecurity most prominent. She bit her lip. He had done nothing to receive such behavior from her. It’s not as if he wanted to marry her, let alone bed her. All he was doing was following orders.

She let out a shaky breath and reached for the pins in her hair. Her long brown locks tumbled down in waves covering her back and chest. Once more he extended his hands forward, one settling on her waist and the other trailing up to her face. Looking into his eyes again, all she saw was curiosity and wonder in his cerulean eyes.

Then he said her name.

“Arya.”

It was so soft and quiet that she was sure she imagined it. It wasn’t until he shifted under her and sat up did she hear him again. Face to face, she heard her name once more.

“Arya.”

She couldn’t fathom why hearing him say her name made something inside her flutter. But maybe it was the distinction in the way he said it that made her feel that way. There was no anger, sternness, or amusement in his tone, just a simple normalcy. And then she came to the conclusion that she’d never addressed him by his name before. It was always just ‘my lord’ or ‘ser’.

“Gendry.”

Her hands, which had been resting at her side, came up to his chest. One remained on his chest while the other went to the side of his face. They sat looking at each other for what seemed to be ages until something went off inside them both. Their lips came together and the spark from before returned, becoming stronger and stronger with every kiss and touch.

Arya wasn’t too sure about what to do but he seemed to know as he took the lead and cupped her face. He brought them closer together as he pressed soft kisses down her face and to her neck. She let her head fall back, a gasp escaping her lips as he moved his mouth across her neck. Several places he kissed seemed to make her sigh and gasp, so he returned to them, careful not to bruise her pale skin.

Somewhere in between his kisses and her sighs, Arya had begun to move against him. She still sat astride him, but her hips moved without thought. His lips still traveled along her collarbone and shoulders, leisurely making their way to the tops of her breasts. But the sensation of her hips moving over him, made him groan and reach for her face. He pulled her face to his and their lips met once more, with need and urgency.

And just like that, she gave in. Her body knew what to do if she didn’t. He kissed her hard and coaxed her mouth open with his tongue. She willingly let him in, her own tongue lashing at his. The taste of Arbor Gold and plain lemon water was prominent as was the taste of the roasted lamb from their wedding feast. And she greedily ravished his taste, a moan escaping her mouth. Her moan must have spurned him on as he pulled back and took in the sight of his wife. Lips red and swollen, eyes dark, and hair disheveled. The image of her like this would forever be engraved in his mind and with that, she found herself on her back with Gendry kissing his way down her lithe body.

He latched his mouth around her right breast and sucked, worrying her nipple with his teeth. His thumbs toyed with her other nipple, rolling it between two fingers and pinching lightly. Arya moaned and held him to her chest. He moved to her other nipple and did the same, kneading and massaging her breast as he did so. Pleasure was all she could feel, the nervous were put to the side and the pleasure surged through her. Soon enough, Gendry removed himself from her breasts and moved lower to her navel and her hips.

His kisses were like feathers against her skin, soft and subtle. When he reached the top of her small clothes, he stopped, his fingers grazing the sides. He looked up to meet her eyes, silently asking for permission to go further. The moan she let out when his fingers brushed over her clothed sex was all he needed. Gendry swiftly peeled it off of her and smoothly spread her legs open. He could see how wet she was now and how her curls glistened with her arousal.

Arya felt something building inside her, low in her belly and it ached to be relieved. She could feel his breath on the inside of her thigh and it was becoming increasingly harder to think and breathe. Gendry sat back and drank in the sight of her spread open like this. She was absolutely beautiful; the harsh whispers he heard during the feast were wrong, deadly wrong. Slowly he started kissing her thighs and she fought the instinct to keep her legs closed. He dragged his mouth upwards to her glistening cunt and Arya almost catapulted off the bed the second she felt his mouth on her.

It was like nothing she ever felt before. Sparing and riding could not even compare to the way Gendry’s mouth pleasured her. He would tease her with a single finger, circling her wet lips as he sucked relentlessly on her clit. Arya felt like screaming but all that would escape her mouth were keens and wails. Her legs were thrashing uselessly against the bed and Gendry hooked them over his shoulders, his hands keeping her hips steady. He would suck, blow, and kiss her clit teasingly, pulling away just when she’s about to blow.

This irritated Arya to no extent and she grasped his black locks tightly, forcing him to finish what he started. This made Gendry laugh, but he complied nonetheless. He went back to work sucking and parting her wet folds. Her soft groans indicated that she was getting close to the edge, her hands releasing his head and gripping the sheets instead. He tugged at her clit one more time before finally making his way to her dripping wetness. He licked a single stripe up her cunt and her back curved upwards off the bed, a loud and needy cry tumbling from her throat.

He did it again, this time inserting a finger inside her.

“Oh fuck…”

Arya wasn’t new to fingering as she tried touching herself once but ultimately ended with her feeling foolish and naïve. Gendry however, was a different story. His motions were practiced and knowing, unyielding as he pumped his finger inside her. She could feel herself nearing the edge of something…blissful and euphoric. Soon enough his mouth joined his fingers, twisting and curling as she unconsciously rocked her hips into him. He moaned and she felt the vibrations deep in her core as he fucked her with his tongue. The blinding heat was becoming unbearable for her and she jerked against him, trying to desperately reach her peak.

“Oh fuck…Gendry….please….please…I want-I-I-I—”

Her mumbling was cut off as Gendry slipped a third finger in and sucked her swollen nub before flicking it with his thumb. He felt her come apart and spill into his mouth, moaning and bucking against his mouth wildly. Arya felt her world go blank with bliss and rapture, the sheets tearing under her firm grasp. When she came back down from her high, all she saw was his face. Her wetness coated his jaw and she watched with glazed eyes as she licked every last drop of her arousal off his face. The nerves she had before were long forgotten and now all Arya wanted was more.

Gendry was as hard as a rock, warm and wanting as he planted kisses up her navel to her sternum. Possessed like a wildling, she could take no more. She hauled him up to her and crushed their mouths together, her legs locking around his hips and rocking urgently over him. His hands came around to her hips, holding her there as he ground into her soft and wet center. The whimper she made would forever be engraved in his mind as well. Gendry gingerly pulled away to remove his small clothes and saw Arya’s face scrunch up with confusion then understanding. The lust in her eyes was beckoning him to continue pleasing her as before and her doe grey eyes were darker than ever with anticipation.

Arya watched as he tore his last piece of clothing off and then steadily climb back on the bed. She could feel him, hot and heavy, as his cock rubbed against her thigh. Unconsciously, her legs opened wider for him. His hands trailed up her legs to her thighs and rubbed slow circles on the smooth skin. She twitched at his touch and moaned.

“Please.”

Her plea was all he needed to proceed. Grabbing his tip, he placed it at her opening, still wet from her release. He stroked his cock up and down her cunt, preparing her what was to come and making sure she was wet enough to take him inside her. While Arya was petite and limber, Gendry was positively huge. Not too big but proportionate to his height and stature. He groaned at the contact of her flesh on his, coating him in her juices.

“Gendry…”

Arya was staring at him, waiting for him to enter her fully. This was her way of giving him her consent, and he understood. Pushing in just a bit further, he hit her barrier. Arya groaned at the feel of him inside her. Never had she felt so full and stuffed, it felt almost like being complete. Locking her legs around his hips, she opened herself up to him. He grunted as he felt the wet heat surround him and he pushed forward with more force.

Her maidenhead tore and her face screwed up with discomfort. Gendry stilled when he saw the look on her face. Arya felt pain but it was fleeting and it wasn’t as bad as she expected. It was like a cut or small gash but nothing more and Arya was used to that type of pain. She thought nothing more of it and brought her hands up to his back.

Gendry stayed still not moving until she decided to move. He felt her hands come around to his back, settling there before she began to shift her hips. The pain was still there but it ebbed and lessened with every thrust, her movements urging him to move with her. He complied, canting his hips towards hers and thrusting deeply. Her hips mimicked his actions, her palms caressing every inch of skin she could reach. His head dropped down to her breasts and he bit and nibbled on them, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. The pain dissipated and all Arya felt was a rather lovely fullness and the euphoria from her earlier climax. Her nails marked his shoulders, arms, and back with cat like scratches, while his fingers were sure to leave bruises from where he held her a little too tightly. Their movements are all bite and scratch, want and need.

Raising her hips higher, Gendry managed to thrust even deeper into her and Arya’s cries became louder and more incoherent. Her heels dig into his arse with each push and pull of their hips. Somewhere in between his lunges, Arya rolled Gendry onto his back. The new position allows for Gendry to drive himself even deeper into her tight slit and for Arya to control the pace. Arya bit the corner of her mouth and rolled her hips unhurriedly, her palms coming to rest on his chest. His arms hold her steady at the waist and he rocks in time with her. The pace gradually increases, every push becoming quicker and quicker than the last.

Arya can feel it coming now, the sweetest release within his midst. Her movements became frantic and rushed, faltering slightly. Gendry senses her need to peak and he rolls them over again, Arya’s back coming back in contact with the bed. He spaces their bodies apart just enough to fit a hand between them. The rough pad of his thumb brushes the swollen nub of her cunt and she jerks beneath him. Her breath becomes ragged and she writhes as he strokes her clit with the same rhythm of his thrusts. Arya tightens around him, milking him as her walls clench around his cock, her back arching off the bed as she comes with a guttural cry of ‘ _Gendry_ ’.

Gendry pounds into her as she rides her wave of ecstasy and bucks his hips when he comes, her name tumbling from his throat and spilling his seed inside her.

“ _Arya_.”

He collapses atop her and is careful to spare her his bulk. Arya hardly registers the weight of her husband as she is still lost in her trance and frenzy. Never had she felt more alive and blissful than with a cock inside her. She finally understood why many women would risk their maidenheads to handsome and feverish, lusty lovers; for the feeling of complete and utter euphoria, a pleasure beyond compare. Gendry can see the red flush that covers her heaving chest and her face. Her body is still thrumming with spasms and aftershocks of her release, and he can feel it. He’s still half hard inside her and she moans when he pulls out, the touch sending shivers down her spine.

He shifts to lie beside her and tries to catch his breath. Arya opens her eyes lazily as her breathing regulates. They’re covered with sweat and sated for the time being, but Arya is more than eager to begin again. Turning to her side to face Gendry, she places a hand on his chest.

“Seven hells, is that what the big fuss is about?” Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

Gendry doesn’t know how to answer her but the look on her face is anything but sarcastic. Instead, he smiles at her and brushes the sweaty hair from her face.

Arya blinks and then bites her lip. “Let’s do it again.”

And they did.

Once with her on top of him and another with them both sitting, moving in tandem together. After peaking for the fourth time that night, Arya crumbled atop Gendry and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 Morning came all too soon for them and Arya felt warm. The pillow she was laying on was extremely comfortable, not to mention it smelled wonderful. Musky, with a hint of smoke and leather….it reminded her of home. And then she opened her eyes.

The pillow she was laying on was no pillow at all, it was Gendry.

Her eyes went wide and she tensed. Subtly slipping away from his hold, Arya sat up and then winced. Her thighs were aching and the place in between her legs was sore. She tried moving her legs a little but muscles she never knew she had, protested and she winced again. Sighing and admitting defeat, she lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes.

The memories from last night came flooding back. Gendry’s touch, his fingers, his mouth, and the way he moved inside her. She could almost feel the tremors and shudders as she recalls the way he fucked her deep into the mattress and how he came inside her. She blushes when she also remembers the way he wiped his seed mixed with her release and her blood from her thighs with his tongue.

She’s still in the middle of her memories when she feels the bed dip on her side. Her eyes immediately find his on hers. He doesn’t speak but the silence is strangely comfortable. Blue and grey both stare aimlessly at one another; as if at any moment the other will disappear. His hand finds her face, cupping her face and tenderly stroking her cheek before he kisses her on the lips. The kiss quick and soft but deep. Gendry pulls back and breaks the silence.

“Are you hurt?”

Arya tilts her head and cocks her eyebrow in confusion.

“It didn’t hurt too much…did it?” He asks nervously.

“Oh…”

_Well it hurts now, but it felt_ so _wonderful last night._ But she doesn’t tell him that, instead she tells him the truth.

“No, not at all.”

Well, some remnants of the truth.

The weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders and he relaxes a bit. The hardest part is over and now they have absolutely no idea how to go from there. Arya gnaws her lip and shivers when a small breeze enters their chambers. Gendry pulls away to latch the window shut but Arya yanks him back to her. He freezes but she tugs him over her, surging up to peck him. She’s telling him that she wants more and he kisses her back. Her leg frames his hip and his hand seeks the wetness at the apex of her thighs. He slides a single finger inside, wrenching a whimper from her.

Just as the passion and the burn in her belly began to rise, a knock at their door interrupted them. Gendry stilled his hand when he heard one of Arya’s handmaidens, speak.

“My lord, my lady, the King and Hand request you join them this morning to break your fast.”

He sighed and answered to Arya’s dismay. “Very well, we will join them shortly.”

The handmaiden must have left right away as there was no response and the room grew quiet again. Arya whined when Gendry withdrew his hand from in between her legs, the loss already dampening her mood. Nonetheless, they dress in silence and are escorted to the Tower of the Hand promptly. The simple and blissful vibes they shared in their bed chamber are gone instantly. Back were the guarded and stony masks they wore to deflect attention. They walked linked together, her grabbing his upper arm and him her hand. The mirth was gone, but the understanding lingered.

_It’s what’s for the best._

* * *

 Breaking their fast proved to be as dreadful as Arya thought. The King leered at her shamelessly the entire time and not more than once did she have to swallow the urge to throw up. Ned didn’t miss the way Robert glared at Gendry, his own son…all for the resemblance of a woman that was already dead. Arya barely spoke a word to her new husband and spoke even less to the King, who was relentlessly seeking her attention.

Instead Arya focused her attention on her father and inquired about her siblings. Ned informed them that Catelyn and Rickon would be joining them soon. Bran and Robb had decided to spend some time with Sansa before she was to depart later that afternoon. Arya bristled at the name of her mother and Gendry noticed. He didn’t ask but all he did was lift her hand to his lips and let it drop between them again. The gesture surprised both Arya and Ned but continued as if nothing had happened.

True to his word, Catelyn and Rickon both arrived some time later. While the conversations grew livelier, so did the tension in the room. Mother and daughter uttered scarce words and father and son spoke no words. Ned entertained Rickon as Arya and Gendry ate their fill before heading out to court. Catelyn broke kind words with the King and chastised Rickon for not eating properly.  The tension slowly dispersed when Rickon made everyone laugh with his impression of the King, even Robert guffawed at the young Stark boy’s imitation of him. The fun lasted only so long before they were to be presented at court.

They rose and walked to the throne room. Arya was as taut as a high strung bow and Gendry was tense as well. They knew why they were heading into the throne room. They were going to announce the consummation of their marriage to the entirety of court. Funny how a stain of blood on a white sheet, could control the lives of two people.

The King took his seat on the throne, the Queen coming to sit beside him in a gown of crimson and gold and a scowl on her face. Ned stood on the other side of the throne and began court. The pleas and other matters were dealt with swiftly and Arya cringed internally as the proof of her purity was soon to be put on display. Gendry must have been feeling the same as he stood tall and stone faced. Yet somehow he was also calm and languid and it enabled her to feel the same.

But the peace could not last forever and the moment she had been dreading had arrived.

“Lord Gendry Baratheon and Lady Arya Baratheon, step forward.” The King’s voice echoed soundly in the vast room.

They both took a step forward, wanting this to be over just as swiftly as the other matters had. The sheet that been on their bed that morning was now being draped on the upper level of the throne room. The scarlet stain was bigger than she thought and there it was, in her face, taunting her. Her fingers balled into fists, wanting nothing more than to let her knuckles fly in the King’s face. But she did nothing and stood still as all the people of court assessed her yet again.

“Looks like the Stark girl was a maiden after all.”

“Pity. Good thing I withdrew my money from that pot. Otherwise I would have lost a new lot of gowns.”

“Gods, look at the torn fabric!” An elderly woman gasped.

“Oh my, maybe her bastard husband fucked her like his father fucks whores, _by the force_.”

“Or maybe she enjoys being fucked like a whore.” One of the women sneered. “Didn’t you hear? Lady Baratheon howled like a bitch in heat last night.”

“Huh…maybe both were made for one another. The bastard and the lady wildling.”

Each whisper was harsher than the last. And finally Arya could take no more. But before she could do anything, Ned spoke again.

“This marriage and union has been consummated and is now forever sealed. I wish the best of luck to Lord Gendry and Lady Arya.”

“TO THE UNION OF HOUSE BARATHEON AND HOUSE STARK!” The King bellowed, raising his wine goblet.

The rest of court only smiled fake smiles and gave false curtsies. Gendry brought Arya’s knuckles to his mouth and placed a tender kiss. His face might have shone a smile, but his eyes were full of rage and humiliation. Not for him, but for _her_. It was because of his calm demeanor that she was able to stomach the rest of the session.

_He’s an honorable man, nothing like Robert. It’d be a lot easier to hate him if he truly was his father’s son. But he’s not…he’s selfless. I don’t deserve him._

The thoughts followed her all the way to the Tower of the Hand. Little did she know that Gendry’s thoughts were somewhat the same as hers.

* * *

 Sansa looked radiant and was all smiles when her family gathered to bid her farewell. Arya was saddened to see her sister leave her so soon after seeing her for the first time in four years. They might not have been as close as they would’ve liked, but they were still sisters and they loved each other dearly.

_Family. Duty. Honor._

Gendry was beside her the entire time and kindly bid her farewell as she took her leave from King’s Landing. Her mother clung to Sansa and cried when they finally parted from the castle and onto the King’s Road.

_Two down, four to go…_

They didn’t speak for the rest of the day after that, both busy with grueling and dull tasks around the Red Keep. Arya had dinner with her father and her siblings and Gendry with his uncle, Renly Baratheon. Ned and Cat had kept to themselves and were exchanging hushed words as Bran and Rickon shared stories that Old Nan had told them time and time again. Robb and Arya talked about Winterfell and how much she missed her direwolf, Nymeria.

“How was she after I left?” Arya asked as she ate her roasted chicken.

“Sullen and howling constantly.” Robb replied giving her a sad smile. “She took to trailing after Ghost and Summer. I think that she thought that they might have led her to you.”

Arya sighed. “I bet she did. I just wish that I would’ve been able to bring her. I miss her so much.”

“I know you do little wolf.” Robb leaned over to kiss her forehead.

“She was my last piece of Winterfell and now…I have nothing.” The words were low but they still struck something within Robb.

“You will always have Winterfell with you, Arya. Maybe not now, but you will again. I promise.”

Arya brought her gaze to Robb. He wasn’t one for false promises and the look in his eyes was determined to prove to her how much he meant it.

“I’m holding you to that, big brother.”

He chuckled. “I was hoping you would.”

The light laughter she let out was enough to make everyone else grin with giddiness and joy. The atmosphere in the room felt like home. Instead of having dinner in the Tower of the Hand, they were back in Winterfell and up to their childish antics that got them in trouble. Bran and Rickon joined in on the fun by flinging their unwanted peas at Arya and Robb. Cat immediately rose to scold the boys when Ned stopped her, pointing with a smile as Arya and Robb threw their potatoes at them in retaliation. And before they knew it, food was flying around the room unbidden.

Squeals of laughter and surprise were bouncing off the walls and into the dimming evening sky. Ned and Cat watched on as their children acted as just that, children. The tears of joy were threatening to spill from Catelyn’s eyes but she pushed them away when she noticed that all four of her kids were eyeing them with malice in their eyes.

“Don’t you dare Robb Stark!” She warned as Robb launched his chicken at her. It hit his father but the laughter still escaped Lord Eddard Stark’s mouth. The rest of their dinner was spent cleaning the dining area with laughter and snorts.

* * *

 Gendry was already in their chambers undressing for bed when Arya entered. The smile she wore at dinner was still plastered on her face. It slipped when she remembered that she was married and shared a chamber with someone else. He greeted her kindly.

“M’la—Arya.”

“Gendry.”

She strode to the front of her dresser and produced a shift from one of the drawers. Picking up a new set of small clothes, she disappeared into their privy. The bath she called for earlier was warm and soothing when she stepped inside it. She bathed rapidly, mostly wiping off the food that stuck on her during the food melee at dinner. Her hair remained clean and clear of food and she scrubbed her skin until it was pink and clean. Deeming herself tidy, she reached for her robe and dressed in her small clothes and shift.

The room was quiet when she exited the privy. Gendry was extinguishing the last of the candles when she clambered onto the bed. It felt peculiar to be lying on the bed after what transpired there the night before. Gendry’s hand on hers jolted Arya from her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I was only bidding you good night.”

“Oh.”

“Goodnight, Arya.”

“Goodnight, Gendry.”

She assumed that he was going to climb in after her but he didn’t. He turned to the door that led to the adjoining chamber.

_Wait, he’s not staying here with me?_

“Gendry?”

He let go of the handle and turned back to her.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

“The adjoining chambers.”

“Why?”

Gendry staggered towards her. “I thought that maybe you would like the chamber to yourself tonight.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small.

He nodded and turned back to the door.

“Wait.”

He stopped and twist to see her, realizing what she wants. “Okay.”

They meet halfway as she pounces on him from the bed and he tumbles down on the mattress with her. Electricity trickles through their veins as they tear their clothes off. They didn’t have to love each other to _fuck_ each other. They were already married and this seemed to be the only perk and upside to their arrangement.

It’s different this time when she takes him inside her. They know _what_ to do now and _how_ to do it and before too long Arya is crying out as her release takes a hold of her. Gendry follows her moments later and they drift off to sleep soon after.

* * *

 The next morning, Arya stands tall and stoic as her mother and brothers depart for Winterfell. She’s sad to see her brothers leave but Bran is to remain and keep her company in the Red Keep. Rickon hugged her fiercely and she kissed his hair.

“I don’t want to go” Rickon cried.

“I know, but you have to.” She pated his unruly curls and kissed his head.

“But why? Why does Bran get to stay?”

“I don’t know but what I do know, is that I will miss you so much my little wildling!”

Rickon giggled as she tickled him and pinched his nose. He grinned and hugged her again, burying his face in her dress. He let go and to her amazement, he gave Gendry a hug. Arya and Robb both watched in astonishment as Gendry lifted Rickon off the floor and placed him inside the carriage. The little Stark boy waved madly at them and they laughed. Arya dropped her head to rest on Robb’s shoulder, trying to make her last few moments with her eldest brother last. Gendry had gone to stand next to Ned.

“You know that you standing here like this won’t stop me from leaving, right?”

“Shut up. You’re ruining it Robb.”

He threw his hands up in surrender and laughed. “I’m kidding she-wolf.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. That only made him laugh more.

“Have you tried to fix it with her?” Robb asked her with all due seriousness.

“No.”

“Arya…”

“Robb don’t.”

He sighed. “She just wants what’s best for you. And before you interrupt me, hear me out.”

“Fine.”

“I know that we’re not as close as you and Jon but I still love you all the same. And I know you,  Arya. Family is the most important thing to you. That’s why you cling to Winterfell the way you do. Winterfell is home and it will always be home, but home….home is also where your family is.”

“And where’s that Robb?”

He scrunched his nose. “I wasn’t finished, little wolf.”

She smirked. “Then proceed.”

“Here,” He pointed to her heart. “Home is here. Doesn’t matter where we are; Winterfell, Highgarden, King’s Landing, or the Wall, home is where your family is. Even when we’re miles from each other, I still think of you whenever I spar or ride. I can hear your laughter and see your mischievous grin, just as I hear Sansa singing when the birds chirp. Because you are both here and will forever be there. Stark you may be but you are also still a Tully.”

“ _Family. Duty. Honor_.” Her eyes glistened with moisture and she threw her arms around her brother. “Okay. I’ll fix it with her.”

“Good. I was just about to start crying as a last resort.” Robb exhaled, with a snort.

Catelyn watched as her son and daughter smiled and grinned at each other. _This could be the last time I see them like this…My grown boy and my wild girl._

She wiped her tears and walked up to Arya wanting to mend their relationship before she left. Catelyn didn’t have to do much as Arya embraced her and held on to her similar of that of when she was a child and scared. They didn’t need to exchange words to know that everything was okay and that she wasn’t angry anymore. She was scared and all she needed was her mother to hold her and to tell her that it would be alright, even if it wasn’t. Cat sobbed as she stroked her daughter’s wild curls.

“My sweet girl, I love you so much.”

“Mummy.”

She drew back just enough to kiss her temple and wipe the fallen tears off her face.

“Be brave, be safe my wild girl.”

“I will.”

Mother and daughter embrace once more before Cat stepped into the awaiting carriage. Robb remained before her.

“I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

He grinned. “A small piece of Winterfell.”

“What? I don’t under—”

The yelping and howling of a certain direwolf cut her ramblings off. Arya was stunned and blinked.

_Please don’t let this be a dream_. “Nymeria.” She breathed.

The wolf snapped her head in Arya’s direction and bounded to her with an impossible speed.

_It’s real…It’s real_.

“NYMERIA!”

The giant wolf stopped short in front of her and tackled her. Arya cried tears of joy and enveloped her in her arms. She stroked her fur and kissed her face and Nymeria licked her face, pawing at her to rub her belly.

“I’m so sorry I left. I didn’t want to leave you behind but I had to. I’m sorry girl. Never again. I promise.”

Nymeria wagged her tail and licked Arya in response. Arya looked around for Robb and barreled into him.

“Thank you.”

He smiled into her hair and kissed it. “Anything for my family.”

“I love you, big brother.”

“And I you, little sister.”

They shared one last goodbye before they parted ways.

Ned held Arya close as she waved them off and Gendry held her hand. Bran waved at them from the top of a wall and Nymeria howled a gloomy but hopeful howl as they rode away.

_Now, I’m ready to start._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this already partially written and decided to post it up now. I will probably be updating every Monday or Tuesday, depending on how much I have written or done. I have an endgame set but all I need are the words! And thanks again for all the comments and kudos. They make me all giddy and happy and mean the world to me. :)
> 
> Also, why not kick off Arya x Gendry week with some smut?  
> Good luck to all the fic writers this week and can't wait to read them!


	3. Warning Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and the really long chapter. Hope you guys like it.

It had been almost two moons since her wedding and Arya found that life in King’s Landing was dull and tedious. The heat was unbearable and every morning she woke up to a stifling room and covered with sweat. And it seemed that all anyone ever did there was gossip. There was no doubt in her mind that several of the rumors floating around the capitol were about her, Gendry, and their marriage. Some however, seemed to be about King Robert’s open  _affection_  for her. The whispers about  _those_  rumors were the worst.

But somehow, Gendry didn’t let that affect her. He was able to make her forget all that nonsense and she certainly wasn’t opposed to his _methods_ of distraction, which seemed to be growing bolder with every passing night.

The first time he fucked her against the wall of their bed chambers was the day some snake from court called Arya a ‘ _wolf bitch in heat_ ’. The woman had sneered that ‘ _no respectable lady would allow her husband to take her so_ frequently’ and that if so ‘ _she’s more alike to her wolf than we thought_ ’. Gendry only laughed at the comment and decided to give them a show. _Let them see what a She Wolf can do…_ he thought. The next day, Gendry didn’t bother to hide the love bite Arya had left along his collarbone or the nail marks that were sure to be raked across his arms. Nor did he shy away from nuzzling his wife for a kiss in the middle of court. _Let them talk._

The next time after that, it was some ridiculous story about her lack of self-respect. He fucked her four times that evening; twice with her on top and once with just his mouth and fingers. The time after that, Joffrey had attempted to claim that Gendry liked to frequent Lord Baelish’s brothels but Arya’s wails of pleasure the next few nights had put those speculations to rest.

Each time after that, the stories and allegations grew more and more far-fetched and implausible but Arya hardly cared about that anymore. All she could think of at the end of every day was the pure and blissful pleasure Gendry would give her. After that, her thoughts were only that of blue eyes, calloused fingers, a stubbled jaw, and Gendry’s cock. Court’s lies had done her a favor; they helped her explore and sate her sexual desires and needs. At least _that_ she could be grateful for.

But every night brought out a bolder side to Gendry, more daring and forward. His touch always varied and was measured. Where he was rough and hard the next night he was gentle and soft. Arya would never admit it out loud but she loved it best when her husband would take her in the morning before all the bullshit and boredom of it all. That way she knew what awaited her come bed time. Until the morning that she received her moon blood.

Gendry had woken up horrified that he had hurt his wife and didn’t calm until Arya explained that it was only her moon blood and nothing more. Only it wasn’t nothing, it meant that she hadn’t conceived on her wedding night or any other night after that. She knew that this soon would spark even more talk about her and her marriage. Having sensed her discomfort, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Arya could do nothing but bury her head into his chest and hope that for once those snakes heed talk of another. She shifted slightly from his grasp and exhaled deeply when she felt the familiar aches in her lower back and the pit of her stomach.

“It hurts doesn’t it?”

Gendry had spoken so low that she barely heard him. _He noticed. Robb and Jon never did, but_ he _did_.

She didn’t answer, only nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Arya laughed. “What for?”

“Not knowing what that feels like. But I figure that it must hurt some.”

“It comes and goes. Mainly I just grin and bear it.”

Gendry untangled himself from her and slid off the bed. He pulled his breeches on and a tunic before speaking to one of their chamber maids. She vaguely heard the words ‘ _sheets_ ’ and ‘ _warm_ ’ before Gendry turned his attention back to her.

“I figured you might want to clean up a bit.” He said sheepishly.

“Right. Umm…thank you.”

He didn’t get a chance to speak again as the chamber maid knocked on the door. He graciously accepted the bucket of water and the fresh linen. Arya shifted her legs off the bed, clutching the soiled sheet to her chest. Gendry stood next to their dresser and poured the water into the water basin. As she began to rise off the bed and reach for the water basin, he turned and put a hand on her hip.

“No. Let me.”

His offer surprised her. She managed to stop gaping and answer him. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

“ _I want to_.” His sincerity was what made her cave.

“Okay.”

She sat back down and he motioned for her to lie down. Wetting one of the cloths, he gently moved his hand in between her legs and proceeded to wipe the blood off her thighs. Strangely it made her think of her wedding night and the way he had cleaned her maiden’s blood. She felt her face heat up at such thoughts and she shook her head.

Her movements caused Gendry to stop.

“Arya?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right? Did you want me to stop?” Just as he said that, he removed his hand from the apex of her thighs.

“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Oh.”

“I was only lost in thought, nothing more.”

He sighed and continued wiping her blood off. She lay still for a few moments and then shifted when she felt discomfort in her lower back. Gendry noticed and rolled her on to her belly, confusing Arya as he did so. He grabbed a bigger cloth and dipped it into the warm water, wringing it until it was as wet as he intended. Tenderly, he placed it on the small of her back. Arya closed her eyes and moaned, the warmness doing wonders to her moon blood pains. The pain was there but slowly disappearing as Gendry began to massage her back and the sides of the swell of her breasts.

His hand soothed the soreness she felt, almost letting it lull her back to sleep. She almost didn’t feel the kiss he placed on the side of her neck. Yet, Arya still reached for him. It was a reflex now, her reaching for him. Her hand found his face and she stroked it, wanting to feel the stubble. Gendry lay beside her again and turned her to face him. Her eyes were still closed but there was the slightest hint of a smile there. Soon her breathing evened out and he realized that she had fallen asleep. He smiled and kissed her forehead. He was rising to leave when he felt her small hand stop him.

“Stay.”

He wasn’t sure what made him stay in the end but stay he did. He shifted back onto his side and she curled into his chest, her hands fisting his tunic. They lay in silence until Gendry felt his eyes start to droop and soon he was snoring lightly as the sun was beginning to rise.

When they woke again, Arya thanked her husband for the helpful remedy.

“I feel much better, thank you.”

Gendry nodded. “It was nothing. My mother…”

He stopped and Arya looked at him. His face was blank but his eyes were filled with emotions that seemed to conflict with one another. Gendry never spoke of his mother to her but she knew that his mother died when he was little and that he loved her very much. So it surprised her when he finished his sentence to her.

“My mother… my mother used to do this when she had her moon blood. I remember that she also used to do it to the other girls as well. They were thankful for it; they couldn’t afford to miss work.”

_Other girls?  Work? Oh… his mother… his mother was a whore_.  Arya had heard the rumors about her husband’s upbringing as well as the stories about his mother. His story just confirmed what those vile people had spread about. He was the son of a woman who worked at a brothel after all.

 “That was kind of her. Did they give her anything in return?” She asked him cautiously. She was afraid that one wrong word and he would never bring up his mother again.

To her relief, his lips curved. “They used to give _me_ sweets as payment and my mother just smiled.”

“You must have loved the attention.”

He chuckled. “I was no more than four and all they ever did was pinch my cheeks and coo at me. I could hardly stand it if it wasn’t for the treats and my mother.”

Arya couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. The way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his mother or the way his voice softened.

“You loved her.”

“She was all I had.”

Something inside her broke for him. She knew next to nothing about Gendry except that he used to live in Flea Bottom, worked as a smith’s apprentice, his mother died when he was little, and that he was Robert Baratheon’s bastard son. Yet even with all that Arya felt a pang of guilt for not making an effort to know Gendry more. He had made an effort to speak to her and to try and get to know her a little better. It wasn’t much but he learned more about her as the days went by.

As she thought more about this, she also came to the realization that this was the longest conversation they’ve held toward one another.

“And now you have Renly, Tommen, and Myrcella.”

The grin on his face grew bigger at the mention of his half siblings and uncle.  “I guess I do.”

She didn’t know why or what made her say it but one day she'd look back on it and be glad she did. “And…you have me.”

Gendry didn’t know how to respond to that. Truthfully, there was a small part of him that clung to her words but there was an even bigger part of him that knew that she was only saying it out of duty. Wanting to say something more but unsure of how it would sound, he settled for a grateful smile.

“I do don’t I?” Her lips curved up and he unconsciously gave her a soft kiss.

They stared at each other when they broke apart. His sapphire blue eyes bore intensely into her stormy grey and she shivered. The familiar spark was in the air, both oblivious to it and aching for it immensely at the same time. They sat unsure of whether to proceed or not. The knock on their door decided for them.

“My lord, my lady, the Hand wishes for you to join him this morning.”

The moment was gone and so they carried on as usual. Playing their parts and slipping their masks back into place.

_It’s easier this way._

The rest of the week was spent with Bran, reading and talking, or with her father. When she went to bed, she slept alone in the adjoining chambers. And as much as Arya didn’t want to admit it, she missed Gendry’s warmth beside her. It had been the only constant that had yet to change, but at least alone in her bed Nymeria was able to join her. It felt like Winterfell then, but deep down inside she knew it wasn’t the same.

* * *

The week after her moon blood ended passed with relative ease and she hardly saw the King, Queen, or Prince Joffrey. That increased her both her mood and mirth while traipsing around the castle in search of an adventure with Nymeria. Arya found that although it was pleasant that she had only seen those three when necessary, it was still quite odd.

She had a strange feeling of foreboding but pressed on with her daily activities. She was supposed to meet Bran in the courtyard for sparring but he seemed to be running late. In her waiting, she decided to wrestle with Nymeria who happily accepted the challenge. She went at it with Nymeria at least thrice before Bran stumbled upon her.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

Arya huffed. “What does it look like? I’m wresting with Nymeria. And where in the seven hells have you been?! I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour!”

“Wait why—Oh! That was today?”

Arya frowned; it wasn’t like Bran to be so forgetful. “Yes.”

“Sorry must have lost track of time with Gendry.”

She looked at Bran stunned. He’d been with Gendry all morning that’s why she didn’t see either of them at morning meal.  “I thought Gendry was with Renly.”

“He is—was with Renly. He left for the forge a while ago.”

Arya placed Needle, the sword Jon gifted her when she was ten, back into its scabbard. “Why were you with him?”

Nymeria trotted after them as they began to walk to the Tower of the Hand. Bran looked amused at all her questions but answered them nonetheless. “I noticed that he was having some troubles during his lessons. The maester doesn’t help much and Renly often has to leave for the small council meetings but still helps him a little. Tommen’s already helping with his writing, Myrcella’s helping him with his etiquette, and I offered to help him with his reading.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know.”

Arya looked away and felt a bit ashamed. “No.”

“Gendry’s a stubborn man, he wouldn’t have told you himself anyways.”

“I still should’ve asked or done something. I should’ve made an effort to ask how his days are spent or if he is well.”

Bran laughed. “Arya he’s a man, not a horse you have to feed or care for.

“Bran…”

“All I am saying is that you shouldn’t overthink things too much. All in good time, sister, all in good time.”

Arya frowned. “That doesn’t help at all, stupid.”

“Wasn’t supposed to. Now, I’ll race you to the top of the tower and back.”

She grinned wickedly at her younger brother. “You’re on.”

She won and Bran was forced to wear a gown to dinner. Lord Stark wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry when he saw his son in his sister’s gown. Bran took one look at his father’s face and laughed. Soon after Arya joined him and Lord Stark did too.

When she went to bed that night, she looked over to Gendry’s already sleeping form. He looked so peaceful and young when he was asleep. No worries or misfortunes marred his handsome features in his slumber. And when he reached for her in his sleep, Arya decided that she would try to get to know Gendry.

She kissed his chest and fell asleep soon after. Her sleep was filled by cryptic signs with a bull, wolves, stags, and lions fighting each other. She also saw a wolf being cornered by a stag and a lion, fighting off one but losing to the other. Arya awoke with a start, her shift and body covered in sweat. She jumped off the bed and ran over to her chamber pot. She heaved into the chamber pot twice before she sat on the floor confused and afraid of what her dream meant.

Sleep didn’t come easy to her after that. Arya lay awake pondering why she dreamt such things before her eyes drooped shut with exhaustion.

* * *

Gendry sensed something was amiss with his wife but decided not to press her for answers. He vaguely remembered waking to an empty bed and then feeling her by his side again. Whatever was bothering her, it made her look exhausted and unsettled. They were quiet as they walked around the Keep. So it startled him when she began making conversation with him. There was usually nothing but silence that accompanied their walks.

“Bran told me he spent the morning with you yesterday.” Arya spoke hesitantly.

He cleared his throat before answering. “He did.”

“He was kind and helpful, I expect.”

“Indeed, he was. He helped me with my reading and letters yesterday.”

“I suppose Maester Pycelle isn’t much help considering his _forgetful_ nature.” She snickered.

He laughed. “No, he’s not. He prefers Tommen over me most of the time. Then again, I’m a horrible student.”

“Really? Why’s that?” Arya was curious to know why he thought himself a bad student.

“I’m stubborn and I refused to accept any help that was offered. I was foolish to think that it’d be as easy as smithing.” Gendry sighed.

“Well you’re right about one thing, you are stupid. You don’t have to do it alone. Bran can help and Myrcella and Tommen and me. You could’ve asked me, stupid.”

His lips twitched. “I know that now. I guess it was my pride that refused to let me see reason. I’ve been alone for a really long time and I guess I was just used to having to forge my own way that I forgot about everyone else around me.”

Arya stopped and put her hand to his shoulder. “It’s hard for you isn’t it?”

“A bit but it’s more overwhelming than anything.” His eyes told her that he was being sincere. “I mean smithing was all I knew, no need for learning my letters. All I had to know were numbers and orders. Now there’s letters and sigils and words I need to remember and it’s confusing really.”

“And with Maester Pycelle as your teacher, I wouldn’t blame you for refusing your lessons.” Arya sighed.

He laughed and kissed her hand. “Sometimes I think you have more fun at your lessons than I do at mine. But then again m’lady struts around a room with a sword in her hand slashing at imaginary foes…doesn’t really sound like too much fun.”

She let her mouth gape in mock insult. “I do not strut around the room! I-I-I—”

“You what m’lady?” Gendry asked standing with his arms crossed, lips curved.

“I dance you stupid bull!” She answered punching his arm. “I’m not slashing at anything, I’m dancing. It’s called _Water Dancing_ , stupid.”

“My apologies, m’lady. I probably shouldn’t mock the only person in court who actually knows how to spar properly.”

Arya felt herself flush at his compliment. If he noticed, he said nothing and offered her his arm again. She saw the small smile on his face and felt herself become redder with every passing moment.

Arya muttered, “Stupid.” before taking his arm again.

It was a beautiful day outside and Gendry had used the weather to his advantage. He asked Arya to join him for a walk around the courtyard after they broke their fast. She agreed and had spent their time hooting about pranks or stunts Arya pulled off in the Red Keep. Sometimes they spoke about Renly or Tommen or Myrcella and his lessons. She snorted when he told her about the time Myrcella found him playing with Tommen and his kittens.

Apparently Tommen had draped Ser Pounce, Lady Whiskers, and Boots all over Gendry and Myrcella walked into the room as Tommen dressed Boots in some tiny scrap of fabric and the kittens ran all over Gendry. He guffawed when she told him about the time that she had flung her food at Sansa during a feast. They traded small stories as they walked down the corridors and into the gardens. Greens, pinks, reds, yellows, and whites surrounded them as they talked.

They had been so immersed in their conversation that they hardly noticed when Myrcella’s unmistakable golden mane twirled in their direction.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” Myrcella said in relief as she made her way toward them.

Arya suppressed the urge to groan. She’d been enjoying Gendry’s company and she found herself wishing that he didn’t have to go. Gendry must have felt the same as he was reluctant to let go of her.

“You found us. Time for my lessons I suppose.” Gendry answered with a pensive voice.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” The princess sat down on the stone bench before them and patted the seat for them to sit as well.

“What is it?” Gendry asked as his eyebrow quirked up.

“Renly and Maester Pycelle are currently still at the small council meeting. And by shouting, I doubt that the meeting is far from over.” Myrcella explained.

“Do you know what they were shouting about?” Arya asked curiously intrigued.

“No but I kept hearing ‘Storm’s End’ and ‘King’s Landing’ a lot. Mayhaps, my father is sending Renly back to Storm’s End.”

“Or mayhaps, Renly’s planning some tourney or celebration in King’s Landing or Storm’s End.”

Myrcella bit her lip and looked at Arya with confused green eyes.

“Who knows? What I do know is that Gendry and Tommen have no lessons today and I am stuck entertaining some bannermen’s daughters in gardens later this afternoon.” The young Baratheon princess groaned at the grueling task. Then she perked up and looked at Arya. “Unless….”

“Unless—oh no you don’t!”

Myrcella pouted at Arya, looking at her with big green eyes. “Please, please, please, please, please Arya. I really don’t want to do this alone.”

Arya’s eyes widened and she felt herself cave when Myrcella’s eyes started to water. Then Gendry spoke up.

“As much as Arya would love to stay and give you some company, I do believe that I promised my wife a tour of the city. Seeing as both my afternoon and the weather are clear, now would be a perfect time to explore the city.”

Arya could’ve kissed Gendry for his quick thinking and settled for taking his hand. Myrcella glared at him, trying to be angry but failing and smiling instead.

“Sorry.” Arya muttered.

Myrcella waved her off, the smile still present. “S’okay. Have fun.”

“Mayhaps Bran and Tommen would like to join you and the other ladies.” Arya suggested innocently.

The other girl smirked and caught onto Arya’s suggestion. “Hmm perhaps an invitation would ensure their presence at the luncheon and with no way of weaseling out of it. I think I’ll go start on that now.”

Myrcella lifted her skirts and skipped merrily to the castle. Arya looked on with amusement on her face and couldn’t help but like the girl. Myrcella was a gorgeous girl, long golden hair and emerald eyes with a kind heart and bubbly personality. Whenever she spent time with the princess there was never a dull moment, there was always giggles and snorts along with thoughtful words and adventurous stories. It was also the princess who often  reminded her a bit of her sister but was more lively and playful, a rather perfect combination of both Stark sisters. Arya missed her sister greatly but was glad to have found a friend in the Baratheon princess.

“Arya?”

Gendry’s voice brought her out of her thoughts and back into reality. “Hmm?”

“You ready to go, m’lady?”

She shook her head. “Lead the way, Ser.”

His face beamed and he led her to the stables. Before too long they were saddled on their horses and riding around the city. He took her to see the Dragonpit at the top of Rhaenys’s Hill and Arya was blown away by the view. She could see the castle from there as well as the entirety of Flea Bottom. Her eyes were full of wonder and joy but Gendry looked like he feared for his life. Arya bit on her bottom lip in an effort to withhold her laughter and grabbed his hand.

“Come on you coward.”

He frowned as they trudged down the hill. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t like high areas.”

“Coward.” Arya repeated as she pulled Gendry along.

“Not a coward, m’lady.”

She stopped and punched him in the shoulder. “Craven then. And stop calling me, m’lady.”

He stared at her a long moment before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “As you wish… _m’lady_.”

Arya fumed and Gendry ran back to their horses before she could hit him again.

“CRAVEN!” she yelled as he ran.

From there they rode through Flea Bottom. Arya remembered that Gendry grew up there and convinced him to show her everywhere he’d ever been. They rode carefully through the narrow streets and maze like paths. He pointed out several places where he’d lived in and where his mother worked. As they rode, Arya couldn’t help but notice how the children stared at her horse lovingly and with awe. She felt sad for them and guilty that she didn’t fully appreciate the fortunes that the Gods had blessed her with. So she stopped and dismounted her horse, walking into what looked like an orphanage. There were children everywhere, playing with sticks or mud and some sharing words with each other. She could feel their eyes on her as she spoke with the Septa in charge of the orphanage. Although there was not much that Arya could do for them, she decided that she could at least give them a day of happiness.

Gendry stood at the entrance of the stone building watching as his wife handed the Septa a large pouch with stags and several gold dragons, and then start playing with some of the children. He smiled as she showed off Needle to the little boys and her wolf necklace to the girls. He lost track of time standing there as Arya played and laughed and talked with the children. As if feeling his gaze on her, Arya turned to face him. There was a large grin on her face and she motioned for him to join her. He didn’t need to be asked twice. They spent some time fooling around with the orphans until Arya declared that the little wolf and the large bull needed some rest but would be back as soon as they could. The kids bid them farewell and that night the boys and girls had sweets, courtesy of Lady Arya and Lord Gendry Baratheon.

After Flea Bottom, he steered their horses in the direction of Visenya’s Hill and to his former smith’s shop. The Street of Steel was alive with the sound of hammering and clinging steel. Arya could smell the fire and leather in the air as well as feel the heat of the forges all around them. Tobho Mott’s shop was almost at the top of the hill and Gendry explained that this meant that he was one of the more expensive smiths of the city.

“It may cost a fortune but his steel is the best in all of King’s Landing.” Gendry said it with a bit of pride.

“What if you’re saying that because you used to be his apprentice and your judgment is a bit biased?” Arya countered.

 “Will nothing ever please you?” He sighed.

Arya dismounted her horse as they stopped outside the shop. “Nope, never. Come on or I’ll never meet this famous Tobho I hear so much about.”

The sound of armor clanging together and the scorching heat of the flames assaulted them as they walked into the smithy.

Tobho turned to look at them for only a second before turning back to his work. “Sorry lad. I ain’t got time for any more orders today. Best try your luck elsewhere.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while. Good to know things never change.” Gendry chuckled.

The master smith dropped his hammer and twist to face them again. It took him no more than a few seconds to recognize Gendry and crossed to embrace him.

“Gendry.”

“Master Mott.”

Tobho patted his back and pulled back.

“Let me look at you boy. You’ve grown even bigger lad, as big as a bull now.”

Gendry sniggered. “Was always a bull, Mott.”

“That you were lad that you were. What brings you here? Forgotten how to sharpen a blade already boy?” the smith snorted.

“Not at all. I was riding through the city with my wife and decided to stop by. Thought maybe you could use a hand or two.”

Tobho’s eyes widened when he noticed Arya’s small figure next to Gendry. He hadn’t even seen the girl until Gendry mentioned it. “Forgive me lass, didn’t see you there. Tobho Mott, blacksmith and owner of this fine shop.”

Arya extended her hand and he kissed her knuckles. “Arya St—Baratheon. Lovely to finally meet the great Tobho Mott. Gendry’s told me a lot about you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, my lady.” The smith eyed her up and down and his gaze rested on Needle. “That’s a fine blade you got there lass. Where’d you get such steel?”

Her fingers dropped down to the pommel of her small sword. “It was a gift from my brother. From back home in Winterfell.”

“Ah a Northerner. Rare breed you Northerners. Tell me my lady, are the winds really as harsh as they say?” The look on his face was filled with curiosity and interest.

“Deepens on how far up North you are, really.”

The smith lit up with marvel and proceeded to prod the Northern girl with questions about the North. Somewhere in between the questions and answers, Gendry had picked up a hammer and started mending some armor. Both Arya and Tobho stopped to look at Gendry as he worked. Focus and concentration were written all across his face and Arya couldn’t help but notice how he lost himself in his work and the determination that crossed with each blow. Or how his muscles flexed with each blow of the hammer. It then that she felt a familiar stirring inside her, low in the pit of her stomach. Before she could conjure up any more suggestive thoughts, Mott shattered her thoughts.

“He’s a good lad that one.”

“Aye. He is.”

“Never thought I’d seen the day when he’d find himself a girl, let alone marry.”

This piqued Arya’s interest, her burning desires suddenly cooling down. “Why’s that?”

The smith seemed to be surprised by her question. “I’ve known him since he was a child and practically raised him myself. And in all that time, never once did I ever see him with a girl or some little love. It was always the forge, his hammer, and sleep.”

“Not even a venture to a brothel of some sort?” The words spilled out and she almost wanted to slap herself for saying such things.

“No. Always kept to himself and to the forge.”

Arya blinked and looked over at Gendry again. He was still pounding on the anvil but his cloak was gone and the sleeves of his tunic were rolled up. Her hand went to her pendant and she tugged on it. Mott noticed and stared at the wolf.

“Starks and their wolves.”

“It was a gift from my father.”

“Ah yes the necklace the Lord Hand commissioned. I only saw it that once.”

“Once? You didn’t make this…” Arya asked warily.

“No, this is the boy’s work.”

_The boy….Gendry. Gendry made the necklace._

“It took him only two weeks to craft it. He would’ve had it done in one but he’d never seen a wolf before mind you. Lord Stark was kind enough to lend him a Stark banner to use as a reference. The rest was the lad’s imagination.” The smith spoke with pride about Gendry. She could sense that Mott cared for him and the he was happy to see him again.

“He’s talented. The necklace is lovely.”

“It’s in his blood, my lady.” Tobho said with a grin, rising toward the anvil. Arya decided that she would tuck away this bit of information for later.

“Still have the touch eh, boy?”

Gendry shook his head with a smile. “Never lost it Master Mott.”

Mott embraced Gendry and patted his shoulder. “It was good seeing you lad. Now go on, get. Shouldn’t keep your lady waiting.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I look forward to seeing you again sometime soon.”

The smith’s lips curved. “I’ll be gratuitously awaiting your next visit. Good luck in the Keep, m’boy.”

Arya bid the master smith farewell before they were off to another part of the city. They rode up to the top of Visenya’s Hill and down to the Street of Steel. From there they rode up through The Hook and back to the Red Keep. The remainder of the tour was spent in rather comfortable silence, taking in the scenery and people of the city. The stables were near empty when they arrived, only a horse or two there and the stable boy was out.

Arya dismounted and helped Gendry to unsaddle and tack the horse. She helped him brush and feed the horse as well as clean off any dirt the animal had on their hair.

“I don’t think I ever want to ride a horse ever again. My legs are on fire!” Gendry moaned.

She laughed. “Oh shut it craven. You get used to it after a while.”

“Says the girl who born to ride horses. I’m city boy, I never had to learn how to ride.”

Arya gave him a mock pout. “Poor you, whatever shall you do now?”

“You’re mean. You know that right?”

She shrugged and put her hands on her hips. “And you’re stupid.”

He crossed over to her and pulled her into him. The urges she had felt earlier in the forge came back even stronger. She ran her fingers over his muscled arms and breathed in his scent. Leather and smoke with just the right amount of musk. She vaguely wondered what she smelt like to him. She chewed her lip as he walked them backwards and into an empty horse stall. She didn’t care that anyone could see them or that they would be the talk of the week, none of that mattered to them in that moment. It’d been more than a week and a half since they last fucked and both were anxious to resume their martial activities.

They met in the middle, lips crushing together and clothes being torn off. He hiked up the skirt of her dress to her waist and ripped the bodice open. She yanked his tunic off and pulled his breeches to his ankles as he sat her on a bale of hay. Arya pulled his face back to hers, kissing him with desperation and crying out in fulfillment as Gendry thrust into her.

Her legs wound around his middle as he thrust in and out of her. A loud moan escaped her lips when he pushed her flat on her back. His mouth left hers to trail down her skin to her collarbone, leaving a red mark as he sucked at her pulse point. She grasped onto the hay as his pace increased and he grunted when she pushed back against him. The heat in the pit of her belly was burning at an all-time high but her release eluded her. They fucked with urgency, the heat and need consuming them both as they pushed and thrust against each other. Arya was wild with lust and wanted to feel the euphoria that she’d come to associate sharing a bed with Gendry with. By then Gendry had repositioned them so that they were on the floor, fucking over his cloak. Arya managed to hook her leg over his knee and flipped them over so she was on top. Gendry’s hands went from her waist to her hips and helped guide her movements as she rode him. Ironically, Arya rode him the way she rode Snow, her horse.

Gracefully yet determined and with experience. He sat up with her and she scored his back with her sharp nails. His lips found her breast and he bit down on one while she moved furiously over him, her climax within her reach. Her hands flew down to his head and held him to her teats as she stilled and came. He bucked his hips to hers once more before he spilt his seed inside her. They sat on the floor sweating and sated until they are able to stand again.

They arrive to dinner with flushed faces and labored breaths. And when they are dismissed for the evening, they barely make it to the door before they rip their clothes off. After they finished the third time around, Arya fell fast asleep but couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. Her dreams are upon her by the time she realized that the King wasn’t present at dinner.

* * *

_He was wandering around the Red Keep, careful to avoid being seen. The sun was only just rising and the birds were singing their melodies of the day as the city rose from its slumber. He was running, feeling the slight breeze against his body and soaking in the warm sun rays with it. He wasn’t sure where he was running to but he ran until he could no longer._

_He stopped short when he heard voices._

_“—and_ you _know it.”_

_“No, it’s not. It’s a foolish notion and nothing more. That is what_ I _know.”_

_He recognized those voices. One belonged to the King and the other belonged to—_ Father?

Bran awoke with a start, hands shaking and covered in perspiration. His eyes scanned his chambers for his direwolf, Summer, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Summer.” He called out.

There was no response. He tried again.

“Summer.”

Once more there was no reply. Bran closed his eyes and willed for Summer to hear him. Instead, Bran’s eyes rolled back into his head and he saw black.

_He was hiding as the King and his Hand argued._

_“Foolish? How can that be a foolish notion, Ned? Would I be wrong in assuming that she might become with child in the near future, if she isn’t already?” the King bellowed. “I am only trying to look after her wellbeing. It seems the bastard cares not for his wife.”_

_“But it is not your concern, Robert. She is your son’s wife and neither one of us do not get to have a say in their marriage. And as far as I know, my daughter is not with child. She and her husband are free to take leave of the city. ”_

_The King seemed angered by Ned’s reply and he lashed out._

_“She will not leave the city until I command it. The bastard may leave but_ she _stays.”_

_“You cannot be serious.”_

_“I am a man of my word, Ned. The girl stays until I say otherwise.”_

_Ned paled at the realization of Robert’s motives._ He means to keep her for himself.

_Startled and angered, Ned did not cower._

_“Robert this is madness! Cersei is still your wife; you cannot cast her aside for another woman who is already married and to your son no less.”_

_“That bastard is nothing more the son of a whore who got lucky. He is no son of mine.” Robert glared a Ned as he spoke._

_Ned willed him to see reason but knew that Robert was determined to see the marriage end._

_“He is still married to my daughter. Their marriage was consummated and the union sealed; you and I both saw proof of that. There is_ nothing _we can do now.”_

_Ned hoped that this would put his ambitions and this foolish notion to rest. What he did not anticipate was Robert’s next reply._

_“Except wait.”_

_Ned tensed; Robert was a smart man after all. “She is_ your _son’s_ wife _and my_ daughter _, Robert. She may look like Lyanna, but_ Arya _is not_ Lyanna _.”_

_“It matters not. The Gods have seen it fit to give me another chance with my Lyanna and I’ll be damned if I let her slip away again.”_

_“Robert, be reasonable.”_

_“I am being reasonable, Ned. I am giving them a year.  She will remain in King’s Landing until an heir is produced. If not, then their marriage will be annulled.”_

_Ned saw that nothing would change Robert’s mind about this. Ned could only hope that the Gods forgave him for putting his daughter in this situation._

_“You may take your leave now, Lord Stark.”_

_“Yes, your grace.”_

_“Oh and Ned, you tell not a soul of this conversation.”_

_Ned gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “As you wish, your grace.”_

_Summer whined and scampered away from the scene. He ran and ran until he was outside Bran’s chambers and pawing at the door._

Only then did Bran regain conscious. He leapt off the bed and ran for his chamber pot, the bitterness rising in his throat. _I just saw Father arguing with the King…about Arya. But-but how… How is that possible?_

Bran Stark looked at the looking glass before him and stared. Auburn hair and tell-tale Tully blue eyes stared back at him but deep down inside all he saw was wolf.

Summer came to his mind and he went to open the door. The direwolf strode pass him and nestled onto the bed. Bran sat down next to his direwolf and pondered what to do with the information that had overheard. Did he keep quiet or did he warn his sister? And he couldn’t stop thinking about how he had heard it all in the first place. He felt as if he had been Summer or in his place.

_Warg_ ….the word came from deep within his subconscious.

_No, those are just stories Old Nan used to tell us. Nothing more._

_Warg_ …it hung in the air until he sighed and started to dress for the day. Bran thought it would be best if he kept his strange dream or vision to himself. He didn’t know what to make of it and what he had seen or heard. Surely it was naught but a dream or some words that lingered from the day before.

_But it felt so vivid and real…._ Bran sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. _I must still be weary from sleep._

Yet there was doubt that clouded his thoughts as he ran through the dream. The anguish on his father’s face was clear and the King’s rage palpable. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if he’d seen something that had already come to fruition? Or was this a warning?

If it was, Bran had only two options: either he told his sister the truth or he kept quiet about it.  He had some time to think it over before he made any decisions. There was both good and bad in telling Arya the truth. One, this being the least likely to happen, she stayed in the capitol until she birthed a son. And the other, she would try and escape from King’s Landing, consequences be damned.

The thought of Arya choosing the latter was enough for him to decide. He would tell her as soon as possible. He would sound crazy he knew, but it was a chance he was willing to take to protect his sister.  But when he saw her, she was walking with Gendry around the courtyard and she was _laughing_. Not the fake laughter she used at court, but genuine laughter. The laughter she spread back home in Winterfell. A smirk on her face and content, he couldn’t do it. The guilt would kill him but he couldn’t tell her now, not when she was actually happy for once.

Family _comes before duty and honor, no matter what. Forgive me sister._

Bran ran back to the Tower, not stopping until his lungs were on fire. Summer stood by his side and both master and wolf stared out into Blackwater Bay, unsure of how long he would be able to keep up the façade.

_Gods help me._

* * *

Arya was reading in some secluded alcove near her father’s solar stroking Nymeria’s fur, when she heard voices. She closed the book and held her finger to her lips at Nymeria. Tiptoeing as close to the solar without being seen or heard, Arya stopped at the sound of her father’s voice.

“—has been offered various noble daughters. There’s Arianne Martell, Alys Karstark, Margaery Tyrell, and Roslin Frey among others. But Robb has yet to give an answer.”

“But isn’t he courting someone already?” She recognized the second voice as Bran’s and crept closer at the revelation.

“Aye, but not officially. He has taken to writing letters to this to this secret lady of his and has planned a visit in the near future.”

“Father, I don’t understand. Why keep it a secret? Why not just admit that the lady Robb is courting is Myrcella Baratheon? King Robert would be more than overjoyed about joining houses yet again.”

“Aye but the other lords will feel slighted if he doesn’t take their daughters into consideration.”

Bran must’ve understood what Ned wasn’t saying as he simply uttered, “And because Arya would be furious with us for having kept this from her.”

Ned didn’t reply and both Bran and Arya had received their answer. _Because Robb could’ve been the link between House Baratheon and House Stark. My marriage to Gendry would be rendered unnecessary if Robb decided to marry Myrcella._

Arya felt like retching. Her father and her brothers betrayed her. They betrayed her and didn’t even have the gull to tell her themselves. She stood from her hiding spot and marched straight into the solar. Her father flashed a smile while her younger brother refused to meet her eyes.

“Hello love, are you alright?”

“No, I’m not.”

Ned’s smile fell from his face. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m angry—no I’m furious.”

Her father looked confused and she looked over to Bran who was still avoided her gaze.

“I don’t understand, love. About what?”

“About what? Huh…” Arya laughed darkly.

Suddenly, Ned knew why. ”Arya…”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear your lies father. After all everyone got what they wanted here, everyone except me.”

“No sweet girl, please understand. What I did, I did for you. I did because it was for the best.”

“You did what was best for _you_ father, not me. But then again that’s the only use daughters have. To be sold and bartered like some cattle.”

Ned paled and tried to reach for her but she wouldn’t let him. “Arya, please. I promise that one day I will explain but right now I need you to understand that this was for the best.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t.” She ran from the solar and as far as she could. She felt Nymeria trailing behind her but urged her to leave her be for a least a moment. The tears ran down her face and she wiped at them frantically.

_I am no fragile lady, I am wolf. Wolves do not cry_. She thought as she fell beside a column.

_But you are no longer a wolf but a stag._ A small voice in her head countered, taunting her even further. She wanted nothing more than to scream and shout but none of that would change the fact that she still married and trapped in this bloody city.

_Just once, can’t I get what I want?_

So consumed by her anger, Arya failed to notice that she was now lost and wandering idly through the Keep. And that she was also face to face with the last person she hoped to see.

* * *

Gendry had been walking to the Great Hall with Tommen when he spotted Bran sitting on a wall and Summer staring up at him.

“Tommen, why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll be there shortly.”

The younger Baratheon prince shook his head and disappeared from sight. Bran saw Gendry approach him and scaled down the wall to meet him.

“What ya doing way up there?”

“Thinking, trying to figure things that don’t add up.”

Gendry’s brow rose. “Such as?”

“Dreams, marriages, and the King.”

Gendry nodded and Bran shifted his weight on his heels before asking him something.

“Gendry, why did you agree to marry my sister?”

The bastard boy’s face blanked, unsure of whether to answer or not.

“Was it because of King Robert?”

“I think that you should ask your father about this Bran. He knows more about this than I do. I was just the bastard that got lucky.”

His words brought Bran back to the dream about his father and the King. He didn’t need to ask his father…he knew.

“King Robert wanted my sister for himself, didn’t he?”

Gendry sighed. “Lord Stark came to me with a choice. He said that I was free to decide whatever I wanted. I could let the King set aside the Queen for Arya or I could marry her.”

“You chose to marry her.”

“I chose to marry someone I’d never met before because it was the right thing to do. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I would’ve refused, knowing that I could’ve done something to change that.”

Bran then realized why the King had held such disregard for Gendry. Gendry had stood in the way of his being with Arya and hated the boy for that. Suddenly Bran knew that his dream was no dream and that he needed to warn Gendry about the King’s intentions.

“Gendry, I think the King is up to something.”

* * *

Gendry had spent the entire afternoon looking for Arya and had yet to find her. He searched her usual spots and even asked Myrcella and Tommen if they’d seen her anywhere. They hadn’t but he thanked them for their help anyways.

_Where in the Seven hells can she be? Why can I never find you when it’s important?_

He decided to search the Tower of the Hand one more time before waiting for her to reappear from Seven knows where. Corridor after corridor seemed to be empty and finally he took a beat. He rested for a moment until Nymeria bounded over to him. Normally he’d be frightened of her but right now she was his only link to Arya.

“Nymeria, here girl.”

Nymeria trotted over to Gendry and whined.

“What is it girl? Is it Arya? Do you know where she is?”

Nymeria started to tug on the bottom of his breeches and prod him Arya’s direction. The direwolf looked anxious and riled up, with a hint of annoyed as Gendry was taking forever to take the hint to follow.

“Just a second. I have to warn Lord Stark.”

He saw a Stark guard nearby and told him that Arya was in some sort of trouble. The guard nodded and went off to find Lord Stark.

“Alright, come on then. Let’s find Arya.”

They rounded corner after corner and corridor after corridor and after the third staircase, Gendry was starting to get dizzy. Nymeria huffed in annoyance and he chuckled. Arya made that expression one too many times in his presence. Thinking about Arya brought him back to the conversation he had with Bran earlier.

Could the King really be so vain and cruel as to condemn a young girl to life in court all for the resemblance of a woman long dead? Or could he really detest his son for having agreed to marry the girl? So many thoughts crossed his head and before he knew it, Nymeria had brought him to Arya. Gendry looked up and saw that Arya wasn’t alone.

She was with someone else, her clothes torn and her skirts rumpled.

_Seven help me. I’ll run the bastard through myself if he touched her. Father or not, I’ll kill the bastard if he hurt her._


	4. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost four years since I last updated and no amount of apologies will ever be excusable. I struggled with the tone of the chapter and the overall feel of it. For what it's worth, I think this is the best writing I've done in the entire story haha
> 
> I feel I should thank that one person who kicked my ass into gear to finish this chapter, so thank you very much for helping me get back into this mindset. This chapter is for you.
> 
> It may be on the short side but I feel really confident with it. I hope you guys will enjoy it...even if you have to reread the story lol

It felt as if time had stood still.

One minute, she had been idly wandering the corridors and the next; she was backed up onto a pillar. In her haste, she had lost track of both her path and Nymeria. At least she still had Needle with her and was more than willing to use it.

Standing before her was none other than Joffrey Baratheon. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl and the way he leered at her made her want to retch. He had a smirk on his face but his eyes were filled with venom. Arya knew that he was still angry and embarrassed about his broken betrothal to her sister, but mostly about what happened at his name day tourney. Arya had challenged him to a sparring match and won, defeating him before the entirety of court, and humiliating him in the process. The Queen had been furious and the King had done naught but laugh at his failure. Adding insult to injury, both her brother and husband had won separate events, infuriating Joffrey even further.

"Well, if it isn't Lady Baratheon? What brings you around this part of the Keep? Not lost are you?" He sneered.

"No, not at all, my lord. Was taking a walk is all."

Joffrey looked her up and down and then looked behind her, as if searching for something. Arya stood as still as possible, keeping her head up and not letting him faze her.

"A walk alone, my lady?"

"Yes."

"Hmm...well then lucky for me then. It gives us plenty of time to chat."

She stiffened as he reached for her arm. "About what, my lord?"

“I am your _prince_ , not your _lord_. You’ll do well to remember that.” He huffed and grasped her arm tightly and spoke in a low voice as if to intimidate her. "And you will repay me for that stunt at my nameday tourney, you stupid bitch."

Arya pulled her arm away and pushed him. "That was no stunt. I challenged you to a fight and you lost. I suggest you spend more time practicing in the practice yard because it is more than clear that your swordsmanship lacks skill."

Joffrey’s face contorted and grew red, huffing angrily at the comment. "I don't care what you think, but you will pay. I am to be King and you will respect me. I  _demand_  that you respect me!"

“ _Demand?_ ” She laughed. "Respect is not demanded, it is  _earned_. You are nothing more than a spoiled brat whose mother tended to his every whim and desire. What you are in dire need of is a good beating or a lashing. And at the rate you're going, no one will ever heed your commands. You'll run the Seven Kingdoms right to the ground. "

Joffrey seized her by her upper arms and threw her into the pillar. "And you are nothing more than whore who lays with a bastard in the stables. Come to think of it, you're just as much as a wanton whore as that bastard's mother."

Her palm struck his cheek with a sounding crack. Joffrey laughed.

"Struck a nerve, have I? Seems you care more about that bastard husband of yours than you lead on. But no matter, he'll pay as will your brother." He paused and looked at her in disgust. "You think yourself so high and mighty but without that wolf bitch of yours, _you're nothing_."

"At least I don't need others to come to my aid like you. It's like those songs Sansa loved so much; except, instead of being the valiant and honorable knight, you're nothing more than the damsel in distress."

The back of his hand stuck her face twice. She made no sound and instead balled her hand into a fist and struck his jaw. She saw as he gasped and his hand flew to his cheek. Joffrey glared at her and hissed, "You're going to pay for that you fucking cunt."

He turned and looked over at his guard, the Hound, who stood hidden in the shadows and motioned him to come closer. Arya watched as the Hound came to stand behind him. "Hound, it seems as if my lady is in need of a lesson. Be a good dog and make sure we are not  _disturbed_."

The Hound said nothing and turned to leave. Joffrey approached her again and grabbed her face in his hand. "It's time I taught you a lesson, the same lesson I taught that slut of a sister of yours before she went and blabbed to your father."

Arya knew of his attempted rape against her sister and prepared to fight him off. She tried to push him away again but he held her to the pillar and started clawing at her dress. "Let go of me...get off."

Joffrey paid no attention to her protests and went about tearing her dress. He ripped her bodice open and pulled her sleeves down, bunching her skirts at her knees. All the while Arya was shoving and pushing at him. Each act of defiance cost her a slap or a shove to the pillar. He started to loosen his jerkins and doublets, leaving his breeches for last.

Arya stopped moving and stood still. She could feel the lump forming in her throat, the bile rising with it, and the pressure build behind her eyes. Yet, she refused to show any emotion, to let the tears spill.

_He's not worth it. I am a Stark of Winterfell. Let him see what a wolf can really do to a stag._

Joffrey Baratheon was no stag nor was he the lion he favored so much; he was nothing more than a coward. No, not even that. He was a craven; a craven that hid behind a name, a family, and his mother's skirts. He could not hurt her, she was no doe. She was a  _wolf_.

"Tell me, my lady, will you scream for me as your sister did? Or will you howl like you did for that bastard husband of yours?" The Prince sneered as he began to untie his breeches.

Arya desperately grasped Needle's hilt and struggled to pull it from its scabbard. Her fingers kept slipping until she secured it and pulled it upwards. The blade pierced her skin but she oversaw the pain and thrust the pommel into Joffrey's face. He screamed and lost his footing, falling to the ground as he covered his bloody face.

Arya fell back against the pillar and exhaled sharply. She strained to push herself off the column and hissed at the contact. By then Joffrey had stood and Arya was still trying to get away, but he caught the skirts of her dress. She almost tripped over the fabric and instead ripped it to get away, but his grip was tight and strong. Joffrey pulled her back to him and he struck her face again, busting her lip open and bruising her right cheek. He started pulling at her skirts again and pulling his breeches off, but she fought him off still. Arya waited for him as he positioned himself above her and brought her knee up as he pawed at her skirts again. She waited for him to stand straight before she slammed her knee into his groin.

Joffrey screamed in agony but clasped his arm around her throat. His grip wasn’t tight but it was firm and he squeezed but she bit his hand. He yelped once more and she pushed him off her with no luck as he fell over her. Arya saw as his hand began to form into a fist and she closed her eyes and waited for the next hit that never came. Joffrey's weight had been removed from hers and she could breathe again. She slid down to the ground and slowly opened her eyes, relief filling her body at the sight before her.

Nymeria was at her side, licking the blood from her hands and face. Joffrey was on the ground uselessly trying to fight back and Gendry was on top of him, beating him to a pulp. She hadn’t heard as Nymeria snarled and attacked Joffrey. Nor had she seen as Gendry had pulled him off of her. Just as Gendry's fist was about to come down, he stilled at the sound of a booming voice.

"ENOUGH!"

All three looked up to see King Robert and Lord Stark standing before them. Jory Cassel, Barristan Selmy, and The Hound stood beside them.

“What is the meaning of this?” It was Ned that broke the silence. “Where is my daughter? Arya? Arya?!”

Arya stood from the ground and ran to her father. “Father.”

“Arya!”

He clutched her tightly and pulled away to see her face. She could see the look of relief and anger that settled on his face as well as the worry that rested on his brow. He kissed her hair and held her tighter, muttering apologies in her hair. That was almost enough to make her cry, her fury leaving her instantly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t hate you.”

“Oh, sweet girl that doesn’t matter now. All you alright? Who hurt you?”

Gendry rolled off of Joffrey and strode towards Arya. Arya let go of her father and stilled as Gendry gently took in her appearance. His hand softly touched her face and his thumb brushed slightly against her split lip. She could see the rage and concern swirling in his eyes. _He’s afraid he’s hurt me, even though it was not wasn’t his fault. He had nothing to do with this._

She pressed a kiss to his palm and he exhaled.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was almost that of a whisper.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, mirroring Ned’s actions. Ned stared at them before averting his eyes. The sight of his daughter with blood on her hands triggered a memory he wished he could forget.

Robert was the one to resume the conversation. “I don’t know what in the Seven Hells is going on here, but I want answers and I want them _now_. All of you, to the Small Council chambers, immediately. I don’t fancy this becoming public knowledge.”

They walked silently to the Small Council chambers, careful to not attract attention. The chambers were empty save for the table and chairs. Robert was seated and the doors barred, Ned took the seat to his left, and Arya, Gendry, and Joffrey stood before the King. Each was to be given a chance to explain their side, Gendry going last and Arya going first. It was going smoothly, that was until the Queen came storming in and demanding to see her son.

* * *

Arya sat still in the middle of their bed as her handmaiden attended to her wounds. She could hardly feel the pain though, her mind still reeling from the meeting in the Small Council chambers.

Cersei had arrived not too long after Gendry told his side and proceeded to call his story hearsay. That Arya had set Nymeria and Gendry on Joffrey for not accepting her advances. Her father had looked so old in that moment, refusing to look her in the eye for some reason. It had hurt but she didn’t have time to linger as the next minute after that they were escorted back to their chambers.

“My lady, my lady?”

Arya was so caught up in her memories that she hadn’t heard the handmaiden addressing her. It wasn’t until Gendry called her that she snapped out of it.

“M’lady? Arya?”

“Forgive me,” She shook her head and sighed, “I-I—I was a bit distracted.”

Gendry eyed her wearily and stalked towards her.

“I can take it from here, thank you. Leave us, if you will.”

The handmaiden bowed and left the room. Silence filled the air as he finished wrapping her hands with the cloth. He moved to the cut on her lip and the bruise on her cheek. She hissed at the contact of the wet cloth and he stopped.

“It stings…”

He nodded and returned to the task at hand, gently applying the ointment the maester had given them.

Arya could feel the shift of emotions that Gendry was going through: anger, resentment, guilt, worry, relief. They were plain on his face but only to her. If had been any other person, it would’ve seemed like he was indifferent to the situation. But Arya, she could read him like a book. She brought up one of her hands and cupped his face, tilting it so that she could look at him.

“This is my fault.”

Gendry stood and pulled from her hold. “Don’t. Don’t you dare do that.”

“Do what? Speak the truth, Gendry?”

“That’s not what you’re doing, Arya.”

She rose from the bed and strode towards him. “I was upset and I acted irrationally. Instead of confronting the situation, I ran away.”

“And Joffrey attacking you was your fault as well?”

“No.”

“Then how can you stand there and tell me that it was your fault? Seven hells Arya, you’re a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them.”

That flared up something inside her and before she knew it, her hand had struck his face. Gendry stared at her and she blinked. Arya looked at her hand and her face several times before apologizing.

“Forgive me; I don’t know why I did that.”

He huffed and let out a chuckle. “I do.”

Arya stared at him until she smiled and laughed with him. When the laughter died down she reached for his face again.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done enough apologizing today.” He kissed her wrapped hand and then her forehead.

“Gendry?”

“Yes, m’la—” He stopped mid sentence and started again. “Yes, Arya?”

“I never did thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.” Gendry’s mouth twitched at this.

“I didn’t save you, Nymeria did. And you saved yourself.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

He laughed. “Yes it does. The only thing I did was pull him off of you. You were the one who fixed his face and righted the bulge in his pants. You’re no helpless lady, you’re a wolf.”

 _You’re a wolf._ The comment made her smile.

The smile was fleeting; her expression became sullen after remembering why Gendry had told her that.

_It’s because of Joffrey…_

And just like that, the tension was present once more and found a way to wrap itself around them and beckon her to withdraw from him.  It tempted Arya, creating a rift between her and Gendry. It wasn’t like there was much there to begin with; the Seven knew she only enjoyed his company in their bed and in between her thighs. Their marriage was nothing more than a means to an end. So why did it feel like her marriage was the only thing keeping everything in perfect balance? And why did she feel a pang of guilt over hurting Gendry even more so?

Gendry for his part seemed to be in deep thought. His form was tense and his face was screwed up, as if he had been thinking too hard about something. She could hear the way his breathing sped up and how he hesitated to break the calm façade around them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing before he turned to face her.

Before she could so much as utter a word, Gendry finally broke the deafening silence.

"We can't leave King's Landing."

Arya blinked, slowly striding to him. "What?"

"We can't leave the capital."

"I-I-I don't understand. Why?"

Gendry’s face was solemn but his eyes were filled with conflicted emotions, and in that moment, she knew.

Somehow, it always came back to that, to the fact that she had yet to conceive. She nodded her head and looked away from him. They both knew why she wasn’t with child yet. It wasn’t because they didn’t share a bed or fuck regularly. Any fool would know that wasn’t the case as Arya spent the majority of her nights wailing in pleasure because of Gendry. And it wasn’t because she was infertile.

“Bran was fearful of the King's intentions and told me of a conversation he overheard." Arya stood silently, unsure of what do or say. “That’s why I came looking for you, to tell you about it.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No.”

“But he suspected something, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “It’s hard to tell with your brother sometimes. I think he knows but hasn’t fully figured out all the pieces yet.”

"We can't leave until I produce an heir."

When she finally spoke, she spoke free of emotion. "He means to keep me here. Cast aside his frigid wife and take me."

For the second time that night, she looked close to tears. Gendry didn't hesitate this time to console her. He took her in his arms and he placed his hand under her chin to look at him.

"I'm not going to let that happen. Father, King, or whatever he may be, I won't ever let him touch you. I promise that we will find a way out of this and out of this snake pit, or so Seven help me."

Arya couldn't respond to that, not when the sincerity was so clear in his voice.

_I don't deserve him...not after what just happened._

But her lips and hands had minds of their own, touching and gripping him as if he were her lifeline and she, his. She wasn't sure how they made it to the bed or how they managed to undress as all she saw were his eyes. Blue eyes that seemed to peer into her very soul and never cower from her. Eyes so blue, she could never understand how Gendry could come from such a man. It wasn't until she whispered his name and came hard, that she knew everything would change.

When morning came, Arya found herself wanting his touch but revolted at the idea of it. Arya withdrew herself from his arms and their giant featherbed as softly and quietly as possible, deciding to dress for the day.

She slept in her own chambers with Nymeria that night.

* * *

She was looking out at the bay, watching the ships as they came and went. For a split second it seemed as if she was going to dive in after one, but then she sighed and averted her gaze. He hadn't dared to approach or touch her without her consent. Not after what happened. All he did was linger in the back and wait until she was calm and fine again. But sometimes as he watched her, he could still see the tiny bit of fear inside her. That small piece that almost had her scarred for life...

_If I hadn't gotten there when I did...I would've never forgiven myself. It's a miracle that when she yearns for touch, she still reaches for me. Still lets me to hold her in my arms._

It had been a moon since her attack but only a week since she returned to sleep in their shared chambers. The ice that had begun to thaw in their relationship had frozen solid yet again. Gendry hardly saw Arya after they last coupled and spent his time with Renly and Tommen. Bran and Myrcella kept him occupied in his studies and lessons. It wasn’t until he was tired of wasting parchment after parchment trying to spell his name that he decided to head to the forge to clear his head. Gendry could see already see the sword he was going to craft in his head as he entered the forge. His thoughts stopped short when he saw his wife standing near an anvil, holding the blade he had finished just two days ago.

 _“_ I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here so early. _” Arya calmly spoke as she returned the knife to the anvil._

 _“_ Your brother thought it best to stop my lesson for the day. Told me to gather my thoughts and return on the morrow. _” Gendry slowly inched closer to her._

_It was awkward to say the least but Gendry would not shy away from his wife. Not when this was the first time in almost a fortnight._

_“_ Have I done something wrong, my lady? _” He broke the tense silence with a question he was desperate to know the answer to. “_ If I have, then I apolo— _”_

_Arya let out a breath and walked to him. Her hands sought his and gripped them tightly._

_“_ No, never! It should be I who should be apologizing. You have done nothing to deserve this attitude of mine. _”_

 _“_ You have nothing to apologize for Arya. _”_

 _She sighed. “_ This place...it brings out the worst in people and I feel as if I’m suffocating here. As if my every move is being watched and I can’t have a moment to myself. Here, _” Arya looked up and around the forge, “_ I can think and breathe. _”_

 _A small laugh escaped his lips. “_ That’s why I love it here. Smithing makes me forget everything and everyone. The King, the Queen, Joffrey...my lessons and my horrid tries at learning to write my letters. Being here reminds me of working on the Street of Steel and visiting my friends at Flea Bottom. _”_

_Arya could see the small gleam of something in his eye. The blue of his eyes almost seemed to brighten as he spoke of his former home._

_“_ Let’s go. _”_

 _“_ Go where? _”_

 _“_ Flea Bottom of course. _”_

 _Gendry looked at her with a stunned expression. “_ I don’t think that’s wise my lady. _”_

 _Arya pulled away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “_ And why ever not? May I remind you that we visited once before. Surely another visit will not do us any harm? _”_

 _He could see that she was gearing up for a fight and decided to let it be._ I could use a leave of this castle as well, _Gendry thought._

 _“_ I’ll let Lord Stark know we won’t be joining him for midday meal. _”_

_She smiled at him for the first time in a fortnight and wrapped her arms around him._

_“_ Thank you. _”_

That morning and afternoon were the happiest Arya had been in moons. The children from the Orphanage remembered her and received her with open arms. She spent the entire morning telling them stories Old Nan used to tell her and the afternoon was spent teaching the older kids how to dance the Water Dance. Gendry could do nothing but stare at his wife in awe of her charisma and personality. The children were saddened to see them go and just glad to hear that they would return the next day.

As they walked the streets toward what Gendry called the best bakery in Flea Bottom, it broke Arya’s heart to see so many smallfolk living in squalor. It made her think of her people in Winterfell and how attentive her father had been toward them. It gave her an idea she hoped she would be able to fulfill.

Hot Pie and Lommy were certainly not what she expected. They made an odd pair of friends but after a few pints at the tavern, Arya could see how her husband could ever befriend the baker and the dyer’s apprentice. They were all so different yet the same, the stigma of being orphans and a bastard made them the unlikeliest of friends. _Just like Jon and me,_ Arya had pondered after her third pint of ale.

They returned to the castle that evening but returned to Flea Bottom every day for the next fortnight. It wasn’t too long until they were dubbed “The Prince and Princess of the People”.

The thought always made him smile.

Gendry was shaken from his thoughts when Arya embraced him.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go back...not yet."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. "Fine, we can spend the night at an inn, if that's what you want."

Arya lifted her head up and nuzzled his neck. "I do."

He kissed her hair and led them back to their horses.

They said their goodbyes to Hot Pie and Lommy and rode off in search of an inn. They found one not too far from the outskirts of the city and paid for a meal, a bath, and a room. As Arya bathed, Gendry sent word to the Lord Stark that they would be staying outside the Keep for the night after all.

When he walked back into the room, Arya was standing by the small hearth wrapped in a linen towel.

"Water's still warm. Bit murky and brown, but hope that you don't mind."

"Not at all, I can live without a bath for the night." He chuckled as he walked over to the water basin by the bed.

He stripped off his shirt and boots and set about washing his face. Arya stood and crossed over to the bed. She grabbed his discarded tunic and slipped it over her head. As she debated whether or not to put her small clothes back on, Gendry quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You took my shirt."

"I did. It was cleaner than mine and...it's warm." She admitted, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He smiled. "I have to admit, it does look better on you than it does me."

She blushed and sat down on the bed. Her fingers toyed with the threadbare sheets, her mind seeming elsewhere. Gendry was about to ask her if she was alright when a knock at the door sounded. Arya blinked and stood but Gendry gently nudged her back onto the bed. It was the daughter of the inn keeper with their meal.

"Your meal, m'lord."

"Just put it on the table there please."

The girl nodded but he didn't miss the way her eyes ventured all over his torso. It made him feel slightly conscious about himself and he strode over to sit on the stuffed mattress. Arya unconsciously found herself settling on his lap and laid her head against his shoulder. His fingers unknowingly sought her long tresses and she kissed his shoulder. The innkeeper's daughter blushed, leaving the food there and quietly exiting the room.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"Will you sing to me?"

He pulled back to see her. Her request wasn’t odd but rather it was always him who asked this of her. Grey eyes were wide with wonder and calmness. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, he kissed her nose.

"Okay, I'll try."

He sang her a lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was small. He could barely remember the words but seeing the calming effect they had on her, he did his damndest to remember. He felt as her lips curved against his bare chest, could feel the small laugh fall from her mouth. Arya held him tighter and then she let go. Gendry was confused until he saw her bring their food back to the bed.

"Thought you might be hungry. I'm starving."

"A wolf through and through, no m'lady?"

Arya laughed and then slapped his arm. "Do not call me m'lady."

He tore a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth before replying, "As m'lady commands."

The rest of the night was spent throwing food, cleaning some of it up, laughing and teasing, talking a bit, and lying together on the bed. Arya liked the feeling of Gendry’s around around her, even with his shirt as a barrier between them. It made her feel safe if she was being honest with herself.

"I want to go home." Arya whispered as she lay with Gendry.

"I know, Arry. I want you to go home, too."

She lifted her head to see his face. Even in the dark, his blue eyes shone brilliantly.

"Really? You'd go to Winterfell with me?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer that. They'd grown closer in the days following their first trip to Flea Bottom and had been inseparable since the incident with the royal family. But she felt as if there was still something missing between them.

Trust? Loyalty? Love? Had she grown to care for the stranger she'd wed?

She was over thinking a simple question and she shook her head. "No reason thought you'd want to visit Storm's End with Renly is all."

Arya felt as Gendry's chest rumbled with his laughter.

"Mayhaps. But mayhaps, I'd love to see the place my wife loves so much first."

"You'd like it. It's amazing. The Godswood in Winterfell is larger than the one here and the weirwoods are real. There's a hot springs there too and the heart tree with the carved face. It's the most beautiful thing in the world."

The way she spoke about Winterfell made her entire face light up. Her eyes sparkled with happiness and it was a look he’d never seen before. It was a look he’d do anything to inspire in her one day.

Gendry turned on his side to face her, his arms still around her. He reached for her face with one hand and cupped it, pushing back stray hairs from her face. "Not as beautiful as you."

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, she felt her back hit the mattress again and saw Gendry looking down at her. Nudging his nose with hers, she kissed his lips. And for just one moment, one second, everything was perfect.

* * *

Ned Stark had been so immersed into his work that he almost missed the rhythmic knocking that had begun at the door of his solar.

“Let them in Jory.”

Renly Baratheon strode in with a look about him. It was almost akin to that of Rickon’s when he was up to something.

“Renly, what can I do for you?”

“I believe I have a solution to a problem of yours that could benefit all involved, Lord Stark.”

Ned took a moment to consider this before speaking.

“What did his grace have to say about the matter, Lord Renly?”

“Robert will agree to what I have in mind if it means keeping Tywin Lannister off his back.”

Ned nodded. The last thing they needed was Tywin Lannister and his influence in King’s Landing.

“And what do you propose will help keep Lord Tywin at bay, Lord Renly?”

Renly smiled a knowing smile. “You’re a smart man, Ned. Surely, even you must know what I’m considering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this chapter was touch and how much it affected her and their relationship. In this case, the attempted assault made her wary of it but she pushes through it. She knows Gendry would never hurt her, no matter what.
> 
> Consent is important and Arya is capable enough to know whom she can without a doubt entrust it to and Gendry is that person.


End file.
